In the Darkness
by scathach124
Summary: AU - A four hundred year old vampire, Matthew Crawley has always lived in the shadows. Arriving at Downton, he is determined to keep his true nature safe, but a visit from a Turkish gentleman is the beginning of a horrific string of events that leaves unimaginable results. Preview to sequel now up!
1. The Horrors of the Curse

_Edit: In preparation for the upcoming sequel, I added in some new material as well as fixed some errors that were really bugging me (because I am a perfectionist). Think of this as the 'director's cut' (or author's)._

* * *

**Prologue**

The mist settled over Manchester like a cloak. The large black bat was nothing more than a silhouette against the light of the moon.

When Matthew saw the open window, he was relieved that Lady Luck was on his side tonight. To have to claw at a bedroom window and wait for his entranced victim to let him on his last night in Manchester was an undesirable effort. He'd done it plenty of times, but he always felt more a monster when he bewitched his prey to rise from bed to let in a creature of the night.

He swiftly flew into the house and changed from bat to human in less than a second. The young woman was alone, deep in sleep, her neck exposed to Matthew. He made no sound as he walked to the side of the bed and looked down at the youthful visage. Her blood smelled sweet to him, the same way humans found the scent of lavender. With icy hands he brushed away her brown hair, baring her throat. He stroked her soft skin, careful not to scratch her with his sharp nails. The scent of her blood turned his eyes from blue to red, and he ran his tongue over his fangs.

The young woman shifted in her sleep, but Matthew's unwavering gaze kept her locked in her dream. He had to be sure she would not wake while he was here. Over the years he had learned how to cause the least amount of pain, how to control his thirst, how not to become so intoxicated with a victim's blood that he drained them entirely of life. He was the only one of his kind he knew existed besides the man that turned him, and Matthew hadn't seen him since Edward VI died. Gradually Matthew came to accept his vampirism, but not a day passed without him wishing that he could be human for one day more, when he did not feel burdened with his barbaric thirst.

His victim was strong; she moved beneath the sheets, as if trying to rip away from her dream. Whatever it may be, Matthew was sure it was not pleasant. Though he no longer dreamed, he remembered nightmares from his childhood long ago, and the visions he had from his transformation. His horrific, painful change still came into his thoughts when he read of murder in the newspapers.

Matthew placed his hands upon the woman's shoulders to keep her still and bent down to her neck. He grazed her skin with his sharp teeth and bit into her, hard. Fresh blood flowed into his mouth, and he sucked at the wound, giving in to his demonic urge. Matthew heard the woman moan a little but paid her no heed. He both hated and loved to feed: hated causing pain, albeit briefly, but sincerely enjoyed the satisfaction that came with drinking the rich blood of humans. All traces of humanity were lost as the woman's veins appeased his ravenous thirst. For some moments he continued to suck her blood. He finally ripped away from her neck, his need fulfilled.

The woman looked somewhat paler but was still fast asleep. The punctures in her throat would fade to a bruise by morning, and she would never think that a vampire had come to her room in the night. Matthew breathed the lingering aroma deeply, red fluid dripping from his lips. His last night here had been pleasant enough.

Manchester's denizens would no longer be prey to Matthew's thirst; tomorrow, he was headed for a new place. An place called Downton Abbey.

* * *

The Turkish guest was deep in conversation with Lady Mary by now, and Matthew's feelings of revulsion towards Kemal Pamuk heightened. Though a polite foreign gentleman, Matthew had decided that there was more to Mr Pamuk than was visible.

Kemal Pamuk had arrived in time to join the hunt earlier that day, and since then he and the young Lady Mary were inseparable. Lady Mary seemed very smitten with him, and even now she was smiling with Mr Pamuk at their end of the table. It was strange to Matthew, for she was far too interested in a man who was not of the English gentry, and that wasn't like her. After all, it was no secret that she hadn't thought well of Matthew's coming to Downton, simply because he had no title of his own.

With Mr Pamuk's obvious charm and handsomeness it was no wonder the other two girls, Sibyl and Edith, hadn't completely fallen for him. But Matthew could tell there was something abnormal about him, and it had nothing to do with him not being English. While Matthew could sense the aura of blood from everyone in the dining room, Kemal's seemed less noticeable, if not altogether gone. It was a strange scent that surrounded the Turkish man, one that Matthew remembered from his days at the treacherous Tudor court. He couldn't place what it was exactly, with the odor of the meat and vegetables from everyone's plate also disguising the scent.

When the last dish was cleared the dinner party filed into the drawing room. Lady Mary's interest in Mr Pamuk did not waver, even with Matthew and Evelyn Napier standing in her little circle. Matthew had to concentrate hard on hiding his animosity for the Turk, as well as control his ever increasing blood lust. Since coming to Downton maintaining his facade as a human proved to be difficult, though he was determined to hide his true form from everybody.

When Pamuk excused himself and disappeared into another room it was clear Lady Mary wanted nothing more than to be by his side again. Matthew watched with displeasure as she following Pamuk through to the next room. He decided nothing good could come out of them going into the next room alone with each other. Matthew went over to talk to Edith, who was close to the door Lady Mary had just entered. Despite the chatter that resonated in the drawing room, Matthew could hear the two lovebirds talking.

There was a comment about a painting, then Matthew heard something he wasn't sure about. It sounded a bit like a rough movement, and Lady Mary whispered Mr Pamuk's name in surprise.

"Let me come to you tonight, please!" he said breathlessly.

"I can't think what I have said that has led you to believe-" Lady Mary said quickly.

"Please. I don't know when we'll meet again. So let it be tonight," Mr Pamuk said.

Matthew didn't hear Lady Mary's next words as he answered something Edith said, but he saw the dark haired woman reenter the drawing room looking slightly bewildered. He thought about going to her and asking what the matter was, but he already knew, and he was not going to hound the poor girl.

And though Matthew didn't see Mr Pamuk, somehow he perceived the Turk was smiling.

* * *

Mary lay reading in her bed that night, trying to ignore the ache in her body. She had spent a fair portion of the day atop Diamond, riding with the hunting party, and now she knew she had never spent so long on a horse. She wondered how long it would be before she could go riding again. But it had been such a lovely day. She had met Mr Pamuk and rode alongside him for most of the hunt, and they had even jumped over a high fence, though Mary's soreness now convinced her that might have been a mistake. And at dinner she had even had the pleasure of sitting next to Mr Pamuk.

Kemal. Despite being by his side for most of the day, Mary admitted to herself that the Turkish gentleman was still somewhat of an enigma. She had been enchanted by Kemal's beauty and his charming disposition, yet she hardly knew a thing about him. And his attempt to kiss her ... Mary was not sure what to think of it. That last encounter with him had left her puzzled. _Better to pretend it never happened_, she thought to herself. She remembered the book in front of her and resumed reading.

She jumped a bit when she saw her bedroom door open. She half expected Anna, but it was Kemal Pamuk who stepped into her room, wearing a dressing gown. Mary leaped out of her bed and pulled her comforter over her nightgown. She could not hide her shock. Kemal was here, in her room!

"You must be mad!" she whispered.

"I am," he whispered back. "I am in the grip of madness."

"Please leave at once, or I'll..." Mary hesitated. Kemal's eyes mocked her as he said, "Or you'll what?"

"I'll scream."

Kemal gave a little laugh. "No you won't. I won't hurt you too much."

Mary was bewildered at his words. She was suddenly scared. "What do you mean?"

Kemal stepped closer to her, and Mary backed away some. There was nowhere she could run, she was trapped between him and the wall.

"You are the kind of woman I want to be with," Kemal said. "To spend an eternity with."

"Heavens, is this a proposal?" Mary could not think what else this could be. Something was making her heart beat faster.

"Not exactly," Kemal said.

The lamp by her bed suddenly flickered and the room was covered in shadow. It seemed colder, and she grasped the comforter tighter. There was something wrong now, something ... unnatural. Mary could feel it, and she felt fear as she had never felt it before. She sensed she was alone, as if there was no one else in the house. She was frozen, unable to scream or make a sound. Before she could object, Kemal kissed her on the lips. His skin was as cold as ice.

"But before the night is over you will belong to me."

Mary's fear and confusion paralyzed her. She was not prepared for what would come next.

Before she knew what was happening he had pushed her back onto the bed and knelt on top of her. His hands were clasped around her wrists. His grip felt like needles in her skin. With a start she realized that the needles were his nails, long and sharp. How had she not seen them before?

"No ... no," she murmured. Kemal released one of her wrists to place a thin finger on her lips.

"You may as well be quiet, my dear," he said. "There is nothing to worry about."

His voice revealed an underlying darkness, and it sent a chill up Mary's spine. What was he going to do to her? He held her down tightly with uncanny strength that made her feel very weak. Her eyelids began to droop, but she forced them open. She saw a devilish expression on Kemal's face, like a madman about to murder a little girl. She froze when she saw his dark eyes turn to the color of blood.

"If you don't fight, you won't feel a thing," Kemal said, and Mary's stomach lurched violently when she saw his teeth had become pointed.

He leaned towards her neck, and instinctively Mary tried to wrestle from him, but her actions were futile. He bit hard into her neck, and Mary felt a pain so great she thought she might black out. She groaned and cried as she felt him suck the blood at her neck. _Oh God, please make it stop, please!_ her thoughts cried inside her. She wanted to scream out loud until someone heard, but the most she could muster was a gasp. She was too weak to move away as Kemal's cold hands embraced her and pressed his body tightly against hers. Her strength was leaving her, and Mary felt weaker than ever. How long would it be before she eventually died? She prayed for the end to come soon.

He tore away from her. Mary felt her heart beat violently in her ears, trying to stay alive but becoming slower and slower. The blackness of the room hindered her vision, but she could still see Kemal kneeling over her with her blood painted on his chin. She could feel death closing in on her as her bedroom seemed to spin around her. Even so, she remained in a state of terror, finally realizing what had just happened.

Through half closed eyes she saw Kemal press a long nail to his own wrist. His cold skin was against her lips and she tasted it - blood. It gushed out in a long stream that dripped onto her tongue. She could not keep herself from lapping the blood spurting from the self-inflicted wound. It was as if she was possessed. The taste was nothing like she had ever experience - in fact, it was almost sweet - and she felt as if she had been deprived of water her entire life. She was unaware of Kemal's hellish red smile.

Even as she drank the blood, fatigue began to overtake her. Before she could figure anything out, she collapsed in a dead faint.

* * *

Daisy the scullery maid was desperately trying to keep calm as she worked on the fire in Lady Mary's bedroom. There was always an eerie atmosphere in here, but this early morning something was different. Daisy was certain she was just being paranoid, but she couldn't shake off the feeling that she was being watched. It was dark, and in here it was colder than normal. The air made her shiver.

Daisy paused, listening for any movement. She checked the bed to make sure Lady Mary was still asleep.

She wasn't in the bed.

The sheets were wrinkled and the pillows had given the impression the bed was occupied, but Lady Mary was not where she was supposed to be. Daisy looked at the bed with wide eyes. How had she not seen it when she came in? She was sure Lady Mary had been sleeping there just a few minutes before. The young girl was still for a moment, listening for a sound in the house, but not a soul was awake except for Daisy. That feeling - the hunch that something was watching her - remained with Daisy.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed something bright. She went still when she saw two beads of red in the darkest corner of the room, near the door. All Daisy wanted to do was run away screaming, but she could not stop looking at the red dots, bright as a glowing ruby, hypnotizing her. She could see the silhouette of a person watching her, eyes fixated right at her.

Lady Mary emerged from the shadows, pale, red-eyed, and with a look of undeniable evil. Daisy was shaking and couldn't even say "milady?" She stood rigid with fear as Lady Mary approached her slowly. She outstretched her arms to the trembling girl, and Daisy stepped back.

"Don't leave!" Lady Mary hissed. She smiled, horrible white fangs protruding from her mouth. She looked every inch a terrifying monster. "Don't leave me alone."

There was nowhere Daisy could run. Lady Mary's hands grasped her arms and pinned her against the wall with inhuman strength.

"Don't go," whispered Lady Mary, a harsh sound that came from her throat. "Let me ... devour you." She plunged herself into Daisy's neck and drank greedily, ignoring the whimpers of her victim. Only a few gulps and she was satisfied.

She pressed a long-nailed finger to her lips, stepped towards the bed, and fell onto the sheets. Daisy stood rigid, staring at the corpse-like figure of Lady Mary. The creature was as still as death, gorged on blood.

Daisy left the bedroom, crying silently.

* * *

_AN: So ... yeah. I just came up with this and thought it might be cool to write it. Tell me what you think in the reviews!_


	2. Revelations

Suppressing a yawn, Anna opened the door to Lady Mary's bedroom. In the dim light she could see Lady Mary fast asleep. Anna frowned a bit. The blankets were wrinkled and Lady Mary was lying facedown across the sheets instead of underneath them. _Poor girl,_ Anna thought. She knew Lady Mary was going to be very sore from yesterday's hunt. She considered leaving her to rest for some hours more and bringing up some hot tea. _Then again, _she said to herself, _she won't want to miss breakfast with Mr Pamuk._ Anna clearly saw how infatuated Lady Mary had been with the Turkish guest. Even _she_ thought Mr Pamuk was a good-looking man, as well as him being unlike any Englishman she had ever seen. She opened the curtains and let in the sun.

The morning brilliance filled the room and touched the figure of the sleeping woman. Lady Mary's red eyes flew open, disturbed and angry. Sunlight flooded her vision, a hideous glare that seared her eyes and burned her flesh. She threw her arms over her face and hissed, a horrid sound that startled Anna. The maid whirled around to see Lady Mary, paler than ever, shrink from the light of the window. She cowered in the shadow on the opposite side of the room and then, to Anna's surprise, crawled under her bed.

Anna stood in shock for a moment, unable to register what had happened. Had ... had she really just seen Lady Mary act like a wild animal? Did she hear truly hear the hiss that resembled that of a cat's?. The woman who was always so proud and proper was now hiding under her bed. Could this all be real?

Hesitating some, Anna got on her knees and pressed her cheek to the floor. There was half an inch of space between the carpet and the drape of the bed. The sun did not reach there, so it was too dark to see much except ... except for a small speck of red that could have been watching Anna. She could hear ragged breathing beneath the bed.

Quickly, Anna stood up again, trying to make sense of it all. She failed, and ran out of the bedroom, calling at Gwen who was dusting the railing.

"Anna?" The red-headed maid looked up. "What - you're so white! Did you see a ghost or something?"

Anna placed a hand on the rail to steady herself. Her whole body was shaking. "No," she said, her voice quivering. "But I've seen something worse."

* * *

An hour later, Anna and Gwen entered the bedroom, carrying thick curtains in their arms.

"I-I don't know about this," stuttered Gwen. She was eyeing the underside of the bed, clearly afraid.

Anna drew a shaky breath. "We have to make this room dark as possible, I think, so she'll come out and Dr Clarkson can take a look at her."

Gwen shook her head. "This doesn't make any sense. What kind of illness makes you afraid of the sun?"

Neither of them could fathom a guess. Anna remembered the small red glow under the bed that even now was watching them. Her hand shook as she and Gwen replaced the curtains as quickly as possible. They had finished when Dr Clarkson entered. The room was as dark as a tomb.

Dr Clarkson waited a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, then frowned. "Where's Lady Mary?"

"Under the bed," Anna answered, pointing.

"Under the bed?" Dr Clarkson repeated in disbelief.

Everyone heard the rustle below, a low growl. Gwen seemed to stop breathing. Anna pushed her towards the door.

"You can go," she whispered. As Gwen hurried to the safety of the servant's quarters Anna bent down and called, quietly, "Lady Mary? Dr Clarkson is here."

There was stillness for a second, than a long white hand emerged tentatively. Like a beast coming out from hibernation, Lady Mary emerged slowly, eyes darting around the room. She saw Dr Clarkson and Anna in front of her, and she stood up. Anna's heart stopped when she saw the savage smile, eyeteeth looking longer than usual.

_What could this be_? Anna thought.

Lady Mary stepped back and lay down on her bed. She did not move as Dr Clarkson went to her side and touched her wrist, feeling her pulse. His brow furrowed.

"Cover her up," he ordered. "She's quite cold."

Anna stepped closer to the bed and pulled the comforter over Lady Mary, who lay motionless as if turned to stone. She did not look as though she were breathing, and her pallor gave the impression that she was a corpse.

"Is she ... ?" Anna asked, voice faltering.

"No," Dr Clarkson said, straightening. "But it appears she's extremely anemic."

He bent down again and touched the sleeping figure again. Lady Mary's eyes opened abruptly, blazing with a demonic fury. Her arm shot up, reaching straight for Dr Clarkson's throat. Both he and Anna stepped back, Anna trying to hold back her scream. Lady Mary's snarl was raspy, eyes shining as if on fire.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the fury subsided. Her eyes closed and her hand dropped. She fell back onto the pillow, once again unmoving.

* * *

Matthew met up with Lord Grantham outside of the large stone house. He was standing on the gravel walkway with his labrador, staring up at one of the windows of the second floor. Worry was etched quite clearly on his face.

"Is everything all right?" Matthew asked.

He and Lord Grantham shared the same family blood, though they were related more distantly than the Earl thought. To Matthew, family was more important than anything else, and to make sure he stayed connected to the Crawley name he cleverly inserted himself in the family tree, keeping enough distance to that suspicions would not arise. Over the years he had remained out of sight, but this century his usual course of action hadn't prevented Matthew from the inheritance of the earldom and the Downton estate.

"Mary had taken ill," Lord Grantham said. He didn't take his eyes off of Mary's bedroom window.

"How terrible," Matthew said. Lord Grantham nodded.

"Yes, terrible to fall ill like that so suddenly. She was in such high spirits with Mr Pamuk."

Matthew tried not to roll his eyes at the mention of the name. Earlier he had seen the car carrying the Turk and Evelyn Napier drive through the village, and that smug, triumphant look had never left the Turk's face.

"It's a peculiar ailment," Lord Grantham continued, turning to Matthew, "for when her maid came in to open the curtains Mary did not seem to be able to stand the sun. In fact, she crawled under her bed!"

What Lord Grantham had just said could not have disturbed Matthew more. Did this mean - no, how could it be?_  
_

For the first few days after being transformed, Matthew had hid himself from all forms of light. It had taken about four days before he could tolerate it and a bit longer before he could stand in the sunlight with most of his skin covered.

"The maids had to put up the heavy curtains before she would come out. I hope Carson gives them a day off, they must have been beside themselves with fright. I don't think I could be in a room with someone watching me from underneath their bed," Lord Grantham said.

"Has the doctor seen her yet?" Matthew asked.

"Yes. But Dr Clarkson can only guess. She seems anemic, but there's hardly a cut on her. Even though her neck is a bit bruised, that would not account for the blood loss. In fact, apart from that, she's in perfect health. It's mysterious, no doubt. But he says to keep her inside and check on her every few hours."

There was something he was not saying, Matthew knew. Lord Grantham would not speak of the strange appearance of Lady Mary, how her eyes had given the impression that they were red ... how she had lunged for Dr Clarkson's throat.

Matthew tried to comprehend - his curse had befallen Mary. She was suffering the same painful transformation as he had four hundred years before. To endure horrific nightmares, hide from the sun, control a constant thirst for blood, and deal with the emotional trauma of becoming a vampire was something Matthew wouldn't wish on his worst enemies. Not even Mary, who considered Matthew being the heir to the estate a joke, deserved something as cruel and permanent.

Matthew had very little doubt that Mr Pamuk was to blame for this. The seductive entity that had entranced Mary had not been human. How had he not recognized it before? Well, Kemal certainly did not look like a vampire with his bronze skin. Like Matthew he must have hidden his red eyes and his fangs. The only noticeable attribute would be his hands. Matthew looked at his own hands. His nails were long and sharpened to a point so that they resembled claws. It was the only thing that distinguished him from the mortals.

For much of his long life Matthew had hid in the shadows, hardly staying in one place for more than a decade. He fed only once every few days and hardly went outside on cloudless days to avoid the crowds of people. At Downton it was harder. Lord Grantham showed him around the estate and the tenant farms on sunny days, and while Matthew had lived long enough to tolerate the sun when most of his skin was covered, he still felt very hot and uncomfortable. Sitting at their dining room table for the first few nights, Matthew thought that he was going to lose his self control (not just with his thirst, but with the way the first footman and Lady Mary had treated him. They acted as if he had no clue about the life of aristocrats. Of course he couldn't tell them he had survived the notorious Tudor court with his head still attached). But Matthew had kept his secret for four hundred years, and when he came here he vowed he would do everything in his power to ensure his secret remained safe.

But now Lady Mary was transforming into a vampire herself, and once they saw what she was, would they recognize him as a creature of the night? Soon her skin would pale to the same color as his, her hands would become claw-like, and her eyes would turn red when she caught the scent of human blood. He knew her insatiable thirst would result in one of the servants or perhaps one of her sisters being bitten. And when she was calm enough to realize what was happening to her ... who knew?

* * *

"Daisy? Daisy!"

Daisy jumped at Mrs Patmore's shrill words.

"Are you going to start on the pudding soon, or are you going to wait until women have the vote?"

Daisy hadn't realized she was staring at the wall in front of her. The knife in her hand was poised over the vegetables she was supposed to be chopping.

Every waking moment she remembered the horror of last night. Daisy wasn't sure if it was a nightmare. Lady Mary's red eyes watching her from the dark corner, coming towards her, smiling with savage fangs, biting her ... Daisy had truly felt the pain. She hadn't woken up anywhere, just continued lighting the fires. She ended up doing a shoddy job of it, her hands hand been trembling violently. By the time the rest of the servants had woken up the punctures on Daisy's neck had disappeared, leaving only a bruise. Oddly enough, she also head that Lady Mary had contracted a strange illness overnight.

The more Daisy thought about it, the less she understood. All she knew what that none of it was a dream.

* * *

_Children crying as their mothers were stabbed by hooded men..._

_Girls hardly old enough to marry being burnt alive..._

_A massacre in which numerous men, women, and children lay dead in pools of their own blood..._

_Screams ... horrific screams of tortured people..._

_The inhuman creature biting and sucking at her neck, holding her down, draining enough to kill her..._

Mary woke up in her dark bedroom, alone. The nightmares had come again, and they sickened her and broke her heart. She could not sleep without being plagued by visions of death and despair. She lay for hours in her gloomy bedroom, finding comfort in the dark bedroom where the blinding sun could not reach her.

Mary didn't remember biting the kitchen maid or her attempt to bite Dr Clarkson or Anna. She didn't remember hissing and hiding under her bed. She could only recall Kemal coming into her room, forcing her onto the bed, drinking from her neck and causing such pain. But Mary dismissed it as one of her nightmares that she was experiencing every time she tried to fall asleep.

She was content just to lie in the dark where hardly a single ray of light shone through a crack. To her, the blackness was pleasant and gave her a strange sense of comfort and safety, unlike other people. She groaned, trying not to think of the people who came into her room periodically. When Anna or Gwen opened the door Mary felt a strange desire, a hunger. The food and tea they had brought did not even tempt her, but the closer the servants came to her the stronger this urge was. There was even a delicious taste in her mouth that she wanted more of. She did not know what her body was yearning for, but she wanted it, to satisfy her unceasing hunger.

She decided not to pay attention to that and instead just stared into the darkness. She could see everything so clearly now, even though the servants banged their hips on the chairs when they came in to check on her. They could hardly see anything, yet to Mary it was all so visible. Even in the inky blackness Mary could see her hands outstretched in front of her.

Mary sat up and stared at her hands. Her nails had become sharply pointed, and her fingers seemed longer with the extended nails. She stared in disbelief, blinking several times, wondering if this was a distortion of the darkness. In that same moment she felt sharp teeth in her mouth and was aware her skin was abnormally cold. A horror settled over her as she remembered last night ... Kemal ... his red eyes._  
_

Mary stood up and walked over to the mirror, fearing what she may or may not see. She saw herself in the mirror, but she had changed. Her skin was as white as snow and her teeth had grown elongated and pointed just like her nails. They had become fangs. Her eyes were the same blood-red shade as Kemal's. Mary almost screamed at her reflection.

What had she become?

Suddenly, Mary understood her horrible craving - a craving for human blood! She cried out in horror at this revelation, the realization that she was now a demon.

She felt the unholy desire escalate as the door opened and Anna cautiously stepped into her room. The scent of her was as sweet as vanilla, and it clogged Mary's nose, enticing her to sink her teeth into Anna's flesh. She remembered the queer taste in her mouth earlier and realized it had been someone's blood - and now she wanted more. She gasped, startling Anna.

"Milady! You're up?"

Light came from the hallway and Anna's body standing in the doorway became a silhouette. Mary desperately fought the urge to lunge at her again.

"Don't come any closer!" she whispered. She tried not to look at the wretched light.

"Milady, are you alright?"

"Keep away!" Mary hissed. She turned away so Anna wouldn't see her fangs. Anna's scent was intoxicating, a hot meal being held under the nose of some cold, starving child. Mary's mouth watered uncontrollably.

"Lady Mary? What's going on?"

"Just go! I can't ... I mustn't," Mary whimpered. She swallowed and tried not to breath in that sweet, sweet smell, but it was no use. Mary felt weak against her urge to attack Anna. She wanted that blood so much she thought she might die.

Anna quickly backed out of the room and closed the door. Mary remained standing in the corner, shaking. She was even more alone than ever, and now very thirsty.


	3. A Mortal's Bravery

**Two days later**

No one else came into Lady Mary's room, and so Mary was left alone to her despair. She waited in darkness, listening to the steps of the servants and her family pass her door. Her thirst was immense, and whenever someone walked by she smelled their human scent and wished for just one drop of their lifeblood. She was horrified of her own hunger: despite her desperation for blood she was horrified of it. It was a gruesome notion that she would have to harm someones in order to satisfy her cravings.

Mary was terrified of herself. When she looked in the mirror a pale demon stared back at her with red eyes. She felt deformed and hideous, afraid to be seen by anyone again. How could she go on living a normal life after this? She wondered if she should just wait it out and starve to death - unless death was no longer an option.

What had she done to deserve this? Why was she the one to be cursed? She cried with frustration and grief even though she knew the answer. She had allowed herself to be seduced by a stranger, fell for his charms and his beauty. Could it have been helped? Mary wondered. Perhaps he had chosen her as his victim from the first moment they met. The prospect that she was Kemal's prey from the beginning scared Mary.

Meanwhile, Robert and Cora were beside themselves with worry. Their daughter was confined to her bedchamber, refusing to eat and apparently afraid of the sun. They hadn't figured out that Mary was no longer human since, like most people, they refused to believe in myths. They only hoped that Mary would not die alone in the blackness.

Even gruff Carson, who was fond of Lady Mary, couldn't concentrate with his ceaseless concern. He seemed even more irritable than usual, with the tiniest wrong detail provoking fury in him. Most of the servants found themselves walking on eggshells around him.

As for Edith and Sibyl, they had their suspicions. They didn't have to go to school to know that people normally didn't try to hid from the sun or stayed alive despite severe anemia. But no one knew what to think.

Matthew knew, but to barge in and tell Lord Grantham that Lady Mary was becoming a vampire was a one-way ticket to the lunatic asylum. He felt useless; he knew exactly how to help Lady Mary and yet he couldn't tell anyone without being thought insane. Regardless, he knew he was the only one who could ease Mary threw her change. He and Lady Mary were hardly friends, but that didn't stop Matthew's wish to help her.

What would Mary think of him if he did reveal his true nature? She was not fond of him now, but how would she react to learning he was undead? Matthew could only guess.

* * *

Anna lay in bed, eyes wide open, the truth finally dawning on her.

She had seen Lady Mary's bright red eyes and her long teeth, and certainly no illness could cause a person's teeth to grow into fangs. It had been her who discovered Lady Mary's aversion to the sun. Anna had read enough books and heard enough tales to know all of these signs pointed to only one thing - the living dead.

It had been two days since Anna last saw Lady Mary, and seeing her in such agony and torment tore Anna's heart apart. She saw what Lady Mary needed most, but that meant - no, Anna thought, _I must be mad._ But deep inside she knew it had to be her. She and Lady Mary trusted each other like sisters. No one else would give her respite.

Slowly and silently, Anna stood up out of bed, looking over at Gwen's sleeping figure. She stepped lightly on the floor, dreading to hear any creak. If anyone caught her, she was worse than dead. Taking a long time to open the door, she walked down the hallway to the stairs, moving as quietly as a cat. She moved a little faster now, as quickly as she could without making any noise.

The house seemed possessed by shadows, unrecognizable when it was not lit by day. Her heart pounded as she tiptoed to the second floor. What she was doing was complete madness, but it had to be done. She did not know what would happen if Lady Mary did not consume blood soon, if it was death or insanity, but Anna could not let her suffer alone in that dark bedroom, cowering in the corner, afraid of the world.

* * *

Mary stood at the window, looking out at the full moon suspended in the sky. Unlike the searing heat of the sun, the moon shone with a comforting glow that wasn't too bright, and it gave Mary a simple form of solace to be able to look at the world outside. She missed seeing her family and walking outside with Papa, but sooner or later she might have to get used to the idea that she would never be able to do that again.

She heard footsteps, and she felt her thirst increase. Who was up at this late hour? She listened - they were coming straight for her room!

At that second the door opened, and the sweet smell that constantly tortured Mary seemed to fill the room. It was Anna, wearing her nightgown.

"What are you doing here?" Mary whispered harshly. Her thirst seemed unbearable now with a human standing right in front of her.

"I know what's wrong with you, Lady Mary," Anna said. "And I want to help you."

"What do you mean?" Mary asked. She watched with horror as Anna began to brush the hair away from her neck. Mary stood with her mouth open in shock, realizing just what Anna wanted her to do.

"I can't!" she cried. "I'll hurt you. I might kill you."

"If it will stop your suffering, milady, I don't care how much you'll hurt me," Anna said, stepping closer to Mary. She saw her fangs in the dark and wondered how much they'd hurt. Her heart seemed to beat faster.

Mary could not believe what she was asking. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Anna ... but that scent! She could not hold back any longer. Her hunger was uncontrollable. She exploded with fury, red eyes burning. Anna uttered a small cry of surprise and fright, but Mary was ravenous. She hissed cruelly, lunging forward and grabbing Anna by the throat. With incredible force she threw Anna on the bed and sank her teeth into her neck.

So long it had been since the sweetness had filled her mouth! It was purer than she remembered, the mouthwatering taste bringing her to a pleasure she had never known before. Mary took hold of a handful of Anna's hair and pulled the head back so she could suck harder. Anna whimpered and writhed as her blood filled Mary's mouth, her fangs had penetrated so deeply. Once or twice she let out a scream that might have woken the entire house as Mary drank quickly. Her mouth had been so dry before, but as Mary gulped down the blood she thought she'd never stop; she didn't want to. She was lost in her voracious thirst, like a savage beast that had been starved.

Anna suddenly stopped struggling, her arms going limp. Mary, in the midst of her drink, noticed her victim's sudden weakness. She tore roughly away from her, leaving a thin tear in Anna's skin from which more blood poured. Mary wanted desperately to lap up the blood dribbling on her skin, but for a few minutes her hunger had been sated.

"Anna? Anna!" Mary whispered. Had she taken too much? She saw the rise and fall of Anna's stomach and sighed with relief. Anna still seemed conscious but exhausted from the pain.

Mary waited for a little while as Anna's eyes fluttered open. Her puncture wounds were still there, but her neck had stopped bleeding. There was a horrible red mark that reached her chin where Mary had torn the skin. Anna moaned and tried to sit up, but Mary kept her lying down.

"Milady?" Anna said weakly. "Are you alright?"

Her vision was blurry, but she could still see the redness of Lady Mary's lips and teeth.

"Oh Anna," Mary said, eyes welling up. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

Anna remained in Lady Mary's bedroom until the sun's first rays appeared between the trees. She still felt weak as she hurried back to her room. She had lost more blood than she should have. It had hurt tremendously, but if Lady Mary was closer to her normal self, then Anna didn't care how much pain was inflicted on her.

As she changed into her uniform she tried not to let Gwen see the slash on her neck. If she was asked about it she would not know how to respond. It hurt whenever her fingers brushed past it, and only part of her uniform covered the scar; there was still a line that reached her chin. She just hoped that no one in the servant's hall would notice, particularly Mr Carson or Mrs Hughes.

"Daisy! Get that tea into the servant's hall or I'll take your liver and make you watch as I feed it to the dog!"

The poor kitchen maid came rushing in with the tea trays and inched in between Anna and Gwen to set them on the table. She had been up for several hours already and her hands were raw and chapped. Daisy was more tired than usual, as the few hours she was allowed sleep she had spent worrying if she would see those ... those eyes.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught something strange on Anna's neck. A scar, Daisy saw. On her neck.

"Daisy? All you alright?" Anna asked.

Daisy noticed the hand holding the teacup was shaking some. As quickly as she could, she ran back to the kitchen, hoping the hard work would distract her mind.

Anna hoped the same. Somehow she managed to stay focus even thought she was a bit lightheaded. Gwen did not notice the scar even as they stripped the beds and took the sheets outside. A chill whipped through the air and nearly blew Anna's cap off.

Matthew Crawley approached the house while Anna and Gwen were still outside. He was glad for the wind that seemed to take away some of the sun's heat. Winter was definitely on its way; the hours the sun was up were becoming shorter, making the night - and the time Matthew could feed - longer.

He asked Anna where Lord Grantham might be found, and she replied, "In the library." He gave his thanks, and saw the scar.

Lady Mary had fed from her maid. There was no denying the mark on Anna's neck.

It was only last night that Matthew decided he needed to go to Lady Mary before she accidentally killed someone. For the first few weeks after being turned the thirst for blood was immense. Even after feeding her hunger would return, and each time she tasted blood she'd want more of it. It was a wonder Anna was still walking around.

Matthew walked around the house to the library, and inside he saw Lord Grantham talking with Evelyn Napier.

"...awful. Ghastly for you and her ladyship."

"Yes, it has been," Lord Grantham said. He saw Matthew in the door. "Matthew, hello. Please come in."

Matthew took his hat off and shook Evelyn Napier's hand. The latter's grip was weak. He seemed devoid of sleep with dark circles under his eyes.

"Is Mr Pamuk still in London?" Matthew asked.

"Yes, although he is just as worried about Lady Mary as everyone else," Mr Napier replied.

"I imagine," Matthew said dryly. "How is Lady Mary today?" he asked Lord Grantham.

"Still in her room. She hasn't changed for better or worse," he answered.

"You see ... I think I can help her somehow," Matthew said.

"That's very noble of you," Lord Grantham said.

"But I believe Mary did not wish to see anyone," Mr Napier interjected.

"I think at this stage it is best Mary talk to someone. She has been alone for far too long," Lord Grantham said.

Matthew nodded a thank you and quickly went upstairs.

* * *

The taste of Anna's blood remained in Mary's mouth. In just a few hours her appetite had returned just as strong as it had been before. Mary wondered how she would live when she longer to drink from every human who walked past her room. She was on the floor curled up, trying not to think about her hunger, but it was too persistent a desire. Her senses had heightened in the past few days, and they overwhelmed her. Hungering for blood all day exhausted her.

A sliver of light shone on the floor as the door creaked open. "Who's there?" she breathed. Mary didn't know who it was, the scent wasn't as strong as other people's. She dared not to turn to the light.

"Lady Mary?" She recognized the voice. It was Matthew.

"Why are you here?" she gasped. "Go. I'll hurt you."

"No, you won't," Matthew said, closing the door and putting the room in darkness again. "I want to help you."

He couldn't possible know, Mary thought. Anna would keep her secret, she was sure. What could he mean?

"You can't help me," she said.

"Yes, I can," Matthew said. He stood over her, with his hand out to her. "Why don't you sit up first?"

Mary looked at Matthew's hand. It would be so easy. It was too much for her, the temptation too great. She grabbed his arm and bit into his wrist.

The instant she bit into his cold skin she realized something was wrong, and she removed her teeth from the wound. She was unable to hide her surprise when no blood flowed from the gash. She looked up at Matthew, eyes wide, still holding onto his arm.

"You're not alone." He was smiling.


	4. A Plan of Revenge

Mary looked up at Matthew with such astonishment it amused him.

"You're not alone," he said smiling. "And I'm no longer the only one in this house."

Mary swayed on her knees, and her claws released Matthew's arm. "You're a ... vampire?" she said in an almost inaudible whisper.

He nodded. Mary thought she was going to faint.

* * *

"You're sure of it?"

"I know the signs well."

A sigh. "Why didn't I see it before?"

"He was interested in Lady Mary."

"Of course."

"He's up in her room right now."

"What?" The hiss sounded scratchy through the earpiece.

"I said Lady Mary might not want to see him, but his lordship allowed him up there."

"What are they doing?"

"Talking, maybe? I don't know what, we can't all have hearing like yours."

"Be careful, Mr Napier."

"Sorry."

"Make sure Mr Crawley does not interfere any more. It would be a pity to see all our hard work go to waste."

"Yes sir."

"I'm sending Carlisle up in a little while."

"When, sir?"

"When her transformation is complete. Another week or two."

"And then-?"

"When she is in my arms again, yes, you will have your wish."

"Thank you sir."

"Do not fail me, Mr Napier. You did so once, and if you fail at your given task -"

"I understand, Mr Pamuk."

* * *

Matthew sat in the chair opposite Mary, who was sitting on her bed trying to comprehend.

"I feel like I'm starving. I can't control myself," she said.

"In time you will," Matthew assured her. "It takes a week or two for the urge to lessen."

"But I'll still have to ... feed," Mary said.

"Every few days or so," Matthew said.

Nothing Matthew said made Mary feel any less a monster. To her, there seemed no hope for her. "I'd rather die than live forever as a monster. Is there nothing I can do?"

"I've lived for four hundred years, and I'm no closer to a cure than I was when I was turned." He had tried many, many times to remove his curse, but every method failed, and he decided to face the harsh reality that he would never be human again.

Mary felt very close to crying. "I don't think I can ever be happy again," she said, despairing.

Matthew got up from his chair to kneel at her side. "Listen to me, Mary. We are cursed, you and I, and there's nothing to be done about it. We must simply adapt."

"Why?" Mary cried. "Why must I accept this? How can I ever live with hurting people just to eat? I nearly killed Anna last night! How can I live being a murderer?"

Matthew stood up quickly. "Mary, you have not killed anyone yet, and I am sure you will _never _be a killer. I have murdered more innocents than you ever will."

Mary looked up at him, stunned at what he had just admitted. "You've ... killed someone?"

His mouth curved into an ironic smile, though he seemed pained at the memory. "Believe me, I was not the hero you see before you back then."

"But do you feel guilty for those deaths?" Mary asked.

Matthew paused. "I think about them every day. I think of how reckless and stupid I was. I thought that because other people believed I was a monster I had to prove them right. I had to give up my humanity because that seemed the only path left for me. But I've held onto it once I saw what a true monster was. And you, Lady Mary, are no monster."

"If you talk to Edith she'll change your mind," Mary said, looking downcast again.

"My point is, this is not the end. Let's be strong, and let's accept the fact that though you are a vampire, you have not yet lost your humanity." He gave her a small smile, and she returned it.

"But will I ever be able to go outside again? I can hardly stand even a candle's light," Mary said.

"It takes a while for the body to adjust, and for a while you'll only be able to go out on cloudier days," Matthew answered. "But yes, you will go outside again."

"And you're sure I won't burst into flames?" joked Mary. Both of them laughed.

"If you are careful, no," Matthew said. "Remember, there is a grain of truth in every legend. I've learned which myths are indeed myths and which are true."

"Don't tell me the sleeping in coffins myth is true," Mary smirked. Matthew shrugged. "Alright, I won't then."

She looked at him and then burst into laughter again.

"_You_ don't have to, but it makes sleep come easier," Matthew said, hoping Mary would understand him as she doubled up. He smiled; he never thought Mary's laughter could sound so ... innocent. This was the most emotion he ever saw Lady Mary exhibit. Before the Turkish gentleman came she was petulant and arrogant and most definitely against Matthew coming to Downton. She now seemed frightened for her future, but some of that coldness had left her heart.

* * *

As soon as she heard laughter, Edith decided she might very well be insane. Her jaw was going to hit the floor if she heard one more demented thing. She had had her suspicions when Matthew Crawley entered Mary's bedroom, but she didn't think she'd hear about vampires, humanity, and Mary almost killing Anna. Edith had heard strange things said behind closed doors, but this was unquestionable disturbing. She was certain her hearing was alright and that the door did not distort words, so unless she was mentally ill, she had heard something that was not, by any means, normal.

So, Matthew was a vampire and now Mary was too. It was almost funny that Mary had once called Matthew a sea monster, and as it turned out she wasn't that far from the truth. Yes, Mary tormented Edith and teased her for her display of sadness at Patrick's funeral, but the thought that her sister was now some bloodsucking demon sickened Edith. And the man who would take over Downton one day had been biting people on the neck for four hundred years, which to her seemed the most ghastly of prospects.

She hurried away from Mary's door when she heard her sister's cackles; did they know she was listening in? She made it back to the safety of her own room, uneasy at this reality. Yet at the same time she was determined not to let them get the better of her.

From what she had heard it had been suggested that it was Matthew who was responsible for the curse on her sister. _And if Matthew thinks he can get away with this just by talking to her about humanity, then he's got it all wrong,_ Edith thought.

* * *

"Edith, are you quite sure you heard right?" Sibyl asked with a cynical look in her eye. She was fiddling with her fancy necklace all dressed up for dinner, not ready to believe what Edith was saying.

"Yes, I am quite sure. Matthew's a vampire, he bit Mary, and now she's a vampire."

Sibyl raised her eyebrows. Clearly Edith was unaware of just how loony she sounded.

"I'm not crazy!" Edith nearly shouted.

"It's just ... it doesn't make sense. Vampires don't exist in real life," Sibyl said.

"Well, people once thought the world was flat," Edith retorted.

Sibyl could tell Edith was hell-bent on proving her theory right. There was something in her voice that made it clear she was serious. "I mean, it explains why Mary is hiding in her room all the time. Anna said she hid under her bed when she opened the curtains that one morning, and she also doesn't want to see anyone." Sibyl realized that all of these symptoms pointed to vampirism and nothing else. "But it's just unnatural."

"Believe me Sibyl, I thought both of them were insane at first, but it gives a reason for all of the weird things that has happened to Mary. Vampires are real and right now we have two in the house."

Neither of them wanted to believe that their sister was now a monster, but somewhere inside each of them they knew that it was all true.

"I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight." Sibyl shook her head. "But are you going to do about it? Tell Mama and Papa? They'll think you're even crazier than I think you are."

"Sibyl, you have to believe me," Edith said. "And if Matthew's gone and bit Mary he's probably going to come after us."

"Stop, Edith!" Sibyl cried. Just the thought of being bitten by a vampire sent a chill up and down her spine. "Okay, fine, Matthew bit Mary. But I asked you what you're going to do. Even if you managed to convince Mama or Papa they'd probably have both of them staked! Matthew's the heir and Mary's our sister, do you think it's alright to kill them just because they're vampires?"

"I don't want to have to kill them," Edith said. "But we can't have them biting the servants and turning more people into vampires."

"I think two vampires in one house is enough, thank you," Sibyl said. "But right now I don't think there's anything that we can do that will help."

"If one of us ends up either dead or undead -" Edith said angrily. There was a knock on the door that made the two of them jump.

"Girls? Are you going to wait up here until the food is no longer edible?" their mother called.

"We're coming Mama," answered Sibyl. She turned back to Edith and whispered, "I just remembered Matthew's been invited to dinner."

Now Edith was much more worried. She didn't know the extent of Matthew's powers, but she figured they'd be in less danger if they acted like they knew nothing. "Act like you don't know it yet," she said to Sibyl. "Please, just don't say anything yet."

"I still think you're mad," Sibyl noted, opening the door.

"That's the least of our problems," Edith muttered.

* * *

Edith's anxiety escalated as soon as she saw Matthew. When their eyes met she did not remember feeling so afraid, yet she tried to remain calm and collected. She noticed Sibyl's discomfort as well, and wondered if at this very second Matthew was staring right into their souls and sensing their fear. Paranoia seemed to overtake her.

Papa was, of course, completely unaware of Matthew's secret, and asked him, "How was Mary feeling?"

"Well, she seemed to be in much better spirits," Matthew answered. "Though neither one of us had an idea as to wait ails her, she said she was feeling more herself."

Edith bit her lip.

Mr Napier, who was sitting next to Edith, inquired, "What exactly did you say to her?"

"I told her not to be afraid," Matthew said.

Mr Napier looked at his plate, then, with a dubious look in his eye, asked, "Afraid of what?"

Matthew looked at him subtly, and Mr Napier lowered his eyes again.

Edith itched to confront him for his crime, to fling a knife at his head for punishment, though she doubted it would kill him. Though Sibyl was too scared to do anything, Edith knew something had to be done, lest another incident occurred.

She had once thought Matthew a good man. The day Mary went hunting with Evelyn Napier Edith had taken Matthew to several old churches to help him learn more about the county (thought Edith now believed that might have been to deflect any suspicion of him being a monster). She had genuinely enjoyed his company, but eventually it became clear that he was more interested in Mary. Of course now Edith saw what his interest in Mary had led to. She hated him for what he did to her own sister.

After dinner, Edith pulled Sibyl aside.

"What is it?" Sibyl asked, but as she spoke she saw Edith's right hand gripping a knife she had swiped from the dinner table.

"Edith, what are you planning?" she said angrily. "Please don't tell me you're going after Matthew. It's too —!"

"Sibyl, hush! If I'm not back in a little while alert Papa. Tell him I went out for a walk."

She heard the door close behind Matthew. "Edith, you've gone mad!" Sibyl exclaimed.

"I know," Edith said.

She managed to get outside without alerting the servants. The night air was cold on her skin. She shivered not only from the cold but what would happen to her if Matthew found out what she was doing. Normally she would have seen what she was doing was madness, but she was blinded with her revenge. She wanted to hurt him, even if it cost her her own life.

_Let's get this done with, fast_, she thought. In her gloved hand she gripped the knife tightly. She didn't let Matthew out of sight. He was about a hundred feet away, walking back to his house in the village. Edith might just be able to sneak up on him quickly enough. Her shoes were impossible to run in, but she took up a gait slightly faster than walking. She held the knife ready. She hoped the cover of darkness would conceal her a bit, and also that he would not think to look behind.

She wasn't too far from him, but if she was not careful she'd miss her chance. Edith kept him in her line of sight, not taking her eyes off of him. Even if she didn't kill him, she'd hurt him somehow, and he'd pay for the terror he caused. _I cannot believe I'm doing this for Mary,_ Edith thought to herself.

She blinked, and he was gone.

Edith stopped, stunned. In hardly a second he'd vanished into the night. She held the knife up, ready to strike in case he was playing with her, sneaking up behind her with his teeth bared. Her heart beat fast and she tensed, gripping the knife so hard her knuckles went white. Fear raced through her body and her heart beat so fast it hurt.

When she saw the black bat in the sky, she dropped the knife. It lay abandoned on the road as Edith ran back into the house, no longer feeling brave.


	5. Night Terror

**One Week Later**

Gradually, Mary's thirst for blood lessened. Every day she felt her hunger subside, no longer becoming so strong a desire. When a human passed her door she could still smell their blood, but it no longer watered her mouth to even think about it. Matthew had told her the thirst would return, but the lust did not torment her so brutally now. She felt better for the first time in weeks. Her skin was still pale, but her eyes were brown again and her fangs had disappeared. She looked almost human again. One rainy day she surprised her family in the library having tea, and everyone - except Edith - was in high spirits for the first time in a while. Mary remained in the house, but no longer confined to the darkness of her bedroom.

Edith's mood, however, had not improved. She had hardly slept since the night she had seen Matthew fly away in the dark as a large black bat. Fearfulness kept her mind wandering to the thought that Mary or Matthew could come into her bedroom and begin sucking her blood. Edith saw how stupid she had been, trying to chase down a vampire with a stupid dinner knife that wasn't even that sharp. She was now terrified of seeing Matthew. Even the mention of his name sent Edith fleeing from the room with the excuse of a headache. And with Matthew having bitten Mary, could he somehow manipulate her to bring more chaos down on their heads? An image of Mary attacking the family and the servants while Matthew admired his handiwork with a cunning smile kept Edith up for hours one night. She didn't speak to Mary on account of her fear.

It was hard to stay calm on that night when both Matthew and Mary were dining with the family. Earlier she saw how noticeable the shadows under her eyes were, and she felt fatigued. Now her heart seemed to throb ceaselessly and might tear through her chest before dinner was finished.

"Edith, are you alright?" Matthew asked.

Edith's heart skipped a beat when she heard his voice. She forced herself to look at him for a second, and his eyes seemed to bore a hole through her soul. She still wanted to drive the knife on her plate through his heart, but she no longer had the strength or nerve to try again.

"Actually, I'm not feeling well. May I be excused?" she asked Papa.

"I hope you are not becoming ill as well," he said.

"No, I think I'm ... just tired," Edith said, hurrying away from the dining room. She couldn't bear the eyes of those two demons staring at her.

"Dear me," her grandmother, the Dowager countess said. "I do hope this isn't an outbreak of the bubonic plague and we'll all have to dig our own graves."

"Oh, Granny," Mary scoffed.

Edith lay awake wondering how she'd survive with Mary in the same house as her. Her Aunt Rosamund was in London, she might stay there for a while until she calmed down. But what if she still could see the red eyes in London, the same ones that were watching her from ...

She sat up and stared at the two red specks of light across the room. It was as if they stared right at Edith, right into her eyes. Her heart pounded in her chest even harder than before. The room was silent except for Edith's heavy gasping. The red dots were the only color in her pitch-black room.

From the shadows came a specter-like figure: Mary, who gazed at her terrified sister with ruby-red eyes. Edith tried to distance herself from the approaching demon, but something held her down on the bed. It was as if her legs were tied tightly with invisible cords. She tried to scream, but the sound caught in her throat. Edith lay there helpless as Mary stood over her, smiling through her savage fangs.

"Mary, please ... I-I-" Edith stammered. Mary placed a cold finger on Edith's lips. She shivered at Mary's touch.

"You will stay quiet," Mary said, her voice laced with poison.

In front of her bed Edith could see two more red specks in the dark, and as Matthew emerged a chill ran up Edith's spine. Her fear paralyzed her.

"Do you recognize this?" Matthew said softly. He held up the knife that Edith had tried to attack him with. In his talon-like hands the knife seemed sharper. Edith attempted to struggle, but a strange force weakened her arms severely. She could not close her eyes; she was forced to look at that livid white face.

Matthew stood at Edith's side and grasped her wrist tightly. The pain was dull, but the horror that petrified Edith was greater.

"A little snip like you couldn't hurt me even if I was standing right in front of you," Matthew spoke in his quiet and dangerous voice. "What's a schoolgirl like you to do against someone like me?"

He pressed the knife blade against her wrist, but Edith could hardly feel the pain. She trembled as beads of blood appeared on her flesh and the knife. Matthew, with a sadistic glint in his red eye, removed the blade from her skin and placed it on the bed. He leaned down and pressed his cold lips against her wrist. Edith sobbed, a strange raspy gasp, the closest sound to a scream that she could make. Matthew straightened and spat out the blood onto the floor.

"Vile! I've never tasted such bitterness," he said harshly. "But what did I expect from a girl whose face is so ... unfortunate."

Mary laughed in her throat. By now Edith was so subdued that all she could do was lie there and listen.

"Such a sad, lonely girl," Mary said, her voice as menacing as Matthew's. "Not even Patrick could stand the sight of you."

"Stop ... please," Edith whispered. How could she say aloud Patrick's name? How much more torture could she endure? "You can't ... do this."

Anger seemed to darken Matthew's face. "Look at me," he commanded.

Edith did as she was told and looked straight into his hellish eyes. A burning sensation spread through her body; she felt as if invisible flames were lapping at her flesh. She groaned as the heat seared her insides. It was as if she had been dropped into the lava of a volcano, and she writhed violently. All the while Matthew kept his gaze on her. When he broke eye contact coolness rushed through Edith's body. She gulped down air and tried to slow her beating heart.

"I can do whatever I want with you," Matthew said. "You are ours to control."

"Please ... stop," whimpered Edith.

Mary gave a low growl. "I told you to stay quiet!" Matthew nodded. "If you do not do as we say, you'll have to be punished."

The next sensation was as if a dozen people had grabbed her arms tightly, and Edith started to moan louder as the pressure seemed to break the bones in her arms.

"So vulnerable," Mary said as Edith relaxed again. "So pathetic. If your blood wasn't so bitter I take from you every single night just to see you squirm like a worm on a hook."

She bent down and bit into Edith's neck. Through her own sobs Edith heard her sister moan with pleasure. Pain seemed far away as Edith began to feel faint, yet when Mary removed her fangs she saw lips painted red.

"We control you," Matthew said maliciously. "And if you dare to fight us ... "

He raised a hand over Edith's face, and suddenly she saw herself as the helpless, tortured prisoner, weak from fear. The burning feeling was even stronger now, her skin like hot water. The vampires laughed as they sent painful sensations through her body and she screamed and thrashed for their pleasure.

"_Edith! Edith, wake up!"_

A voice, barely audible, was calling out to her. She didn't know it if was her imagination; it seemed too distant.

Matthew heard the voice and removed his hand from Edith's sight. In a heartbeat, Mary's bloody face dissolved, and so did Matthew's as light flooded the room.

"Edith, can you hear me?" Her mother's voice. Someone was shaking her. She was saved!

Edith opened her eyes and saw her family and Anna standing in her room. She started when she saw Mary was there as well, but she was in her nightgown, and her face was clean. She was as bewildered as everyone else.

"No ... no," Edith breathed.

"It's alright, my darling," her mother said. "You were having a bad dream, that's all."

A dream, Edith thought. Was it all just a dream?

She lay there sweating and shivering as Anna bathed her forehead with a damp cloth.

"Would you like anything, milady?" Anna asked.

"No, I ..." Edith breathed. She felt sick, and she gripped the sheets. The knife was not on the bed. Edith looked over at Mary. Every trace of sinisterness and malevolence that had been there a moment ago had vanished.

Mary looked at her shaking sister. She had been so frightened when she heard the screams that sounded exactly like she was being cut open. In the back of her mind she had thought that it was Kemal Pamuk, come to claim another life. Thank goodness it had only been a dream - yet with the feverish hue that Edith now possessed, it could not have been an ordinary nightmare.

Edith's eyes met with hers, and suddenly traces of thoughts flooded Mary's head.

"I ... know ... Matthew ... you ... vampire." It was as if Edith had whispered raspingly into her ear.

Mary looked at Edith with an alarmed expression and left the room, with Anna and Sibyl tending to Edith.

* * *

Mary was waiting in the library when Matthew came in. The day was rainy and cold, and the light from the fire made eerie shadows on her face that Matthew thought made her look even more mysterious.

"You wanted to talk to me?" he said.

"Yes," Mary said. "Is there anyone around?" she whispered.

"No," Matthew said quickly.

"It's about Edith. You see, she woke us all up screaming last night, she must have had a nightmare." Mary's face was etched with worry, and she shifted in her seat. "But she knows about ... it. Somehow I heard her thoughts. I don't know how, and I don't think she'll tell us. She hasn't spoken to me in a while."

Matthew looked at Mary strangely. "You read Edith's thoughts?" It had taken him a while to learn that skill, and he didn't use it much. He mostly used his manipulation of humans to keep them asleep as he fed.

Mary nodded. "Now I see why she doesn't like being in the same room as me."

"Now I understand why she tried to kill me," Matthew said.

"What?" Mary's eyes widened.

"A week ago, maybe, I was leaving dinner, and I knew someone was behind me, I could hear them on the gravel. I couldn't tell who it was, since I'd just eaten and they were too far away. I did not think they were following me, though. The next day I found a table knife lying on the ground. It had her scent."

Mary was horrified. "Is she going mad?" she said to herself.

"Don't worry Lady Mary, it wouldn't have hurt me much," Matthew assured her.

"But ... what am I going to do with her?" Mary said. "She seemed so frightened last night. I know that nightmare was about us."

Matthew rubbed his temple. "In four hundred years not a single human has figured out what I am," he said. "I'm not sure how she'll live with it."

"I wish I could talk to her," Mary sighed. "But she's scared to death after last night. She hasn't left her room. If you could have seen the way she looked at me ... perhaps I can ask Anna to talk with her."

"Does Anna know too?" Matthew said, startled.

"She allowed me to feed on her during my ... transition," Mary replied. Matthew looked at her with raised eyebrows. He'd never met a person who volunteered to be bitten by a vampire. How strange the servants of the aristocracy were.

"But Lady Edith hasn't told anyone else, has she?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so," Mary said. "Sibyl, perhaps. I know she hasn't said a word to Mama or Papa, or else ..."

Mary looked as if she were about to cry. Matthew bent down and took her hands in his. "Lady Mary, I don't know how Lady Edith will deal with this, but I am certain she will not inform your parents of this."

"No?" Mary asked.

"No. From what I understand Lady Edith is too scared to say anything about it."

"That's a relief," Mary murmured. "I should hate to see Papa's reaction if he knew."

Matthew dreaded Lord Grantham finding out his secret - or anybody, for that matter. There was no way to know how the Earl would react. Matthew had become well acquainted with Lord Grantham, but not well enough to know his response to figuring out the heir to the estate was also a vampire.

"Then we'll have to hope that they will not find out," he said.

* * *

Hidden in a dark corner of the small library, Evelyn Napier listened to the conversation between Matthew Crawley and Lady Mary. And he knew he was finished.

Mr Pamuk's plan was ruined. A servant knew. Lady Edith knew. Matthew was becoming close to Lady Mary. And Mr Napier did not have the strength or opportunities to kill them both.

Silently, he slipped out of Downton Abbey and boarded the train back to London. Running away was not an option.

* * *

"You fool! You incompetent cur!"

"Please, I beg of you, I could not prevent it!" Mr Napier was practically on his knees, hands clasped, begging for mercy. Kemal Pamuk stood over him, red eyes blazing, a demoniac wrath consuming him.

"I give you one simple task -"

"Master Pamuk, it was not as easy -" Mr Napier pleaded.

"You sniveling dog!" Pamuk spat. "You are as worthless as a rat."

"Have you ever tried to hide a vampire from a house full of people?" Mr Napier said angrily.

The blow cracked across his face, and it was as if knives had carved lines into his cheek. He touched his face gingerly and it came out red.

Kemal's voice was dangerous. "I had great faith in you, Napier. But you've gone and failed me. Even when you knew what the penalty for failure was."

"And," Mr Napier gulped, standing up, "I resign myself to my punishment."

This surprised Kemal. "A few days ago you said you'd so anything for immortality."

"I don't want to live life as your puppet," Mr Napier said, his voice quivering slightly. "I-I would rather die than live forever as a slave."

Kemal stood in front of the trembling man. "If that is what you wish."

"It is."

"Very well," Kemal said. He grabbed Mr Napier's shoulders, forced him against the wall, and bit into him. Only a few minutes passed before Mr Napier collapsed onto the floor, lifeless and bloodless.

Kemal went to make a telephone call.

"The plan is postponed for the time being ... no, postponed ... once I have everything sorted out ... you will still be rewarded, once I have Lady Mary." He hung up, and looked down at the cold being on his floor.


	6. Devotion

**Next Morning**

It was still grey and dreary the next morning, and when Robert, Sibyl, and Edith went into the breakfast room they were all somewhat gloomy themselves. "Dreadful," Robert muttered. He was becoming quite cold at night, even with Cora beside him in bed.

Mary, however, thought the day quite nice. Since her transformation she preferred dismal weather and dark rooms, and the darker it was the more content she was. She wanted to comment cheerfully on how the sky threatened a thunderstorm, but she said nothing as she put bacon on her plate. She sat down across from Sibyl, as Edith still refused to even acknowledge Mary was ever in the same room as her.

Robert opened_ The Times_ and gave a slight gasp. "I don't believe it," he said. "'The Honorable Evelyn Napier found dead in Thames.'"

Mary nearly spat out her tea. Sibyl and Edith sat speechless.

"What happened?" Mary asked.

Robert read: "'At fifteen minutes past one this morning, the body of the Hon. Evelyn Napier, son of Viscount Branksome, was found in the river Thames near the Houses of Parliament. Cause of death appears to be total blood loss through a wound of the neck -'"

This time Mary did choke on her tea. "How horrible," she muttered as she wiped her mouth.

"It is. A pleasant man, he was," Robert said. "No doubt a horrific murder. I hope they catch the mad bloke so he receives what he deserves."

The room was deathly silent. A faint image appeared in Mary's head, one of Kemal Pamuk throwing Evelyn Napier's limp body into the murky water.

Edith waited a bit before asking, "I was wondering if I could go to London and stay with Aunt Rosamund for a little while."

"Why?" Robert frowned.

"I haven't been down there since the Season, and I've been a bit bored at home," Edith said. "Besides, I thought it might be good to go away after ... the other night."

She still hadn't gotten much rest, and the memory of Mary and Matthew standing over her laughing seemed inescapable. Hardly anything took her mind off of her nightmare.

Robert raised his eyebrows. "Very well, but I'll see what your mother has to say. But you won't be going until this weather clears up."

At the exact moment he said "clear" thunder cracked and sheets of rain were thrown at the windows. Everyone in the room listened as rain sounded like gunshots through the glass.

"Well, it will be a miracle if the county doesn't become a sea by luncheon," Robert remarked.

* * *

Day became night as a heavy storm submerged Downton. Mary certainly agreed with Edith's excuse to go to London: there was practically nothing to do when they weren't entertaining guests. Mary spent her day reading, and she had snatched her father's morning newspaper, reading the fine print concerning Mr Napier's murder. There had been no reason for the murder it seemed, but the mysterious circumstances of his death baffled every professional doctor. To her disgust, Kemal Pamuk had given a statement. 'This heinous crime must be punishable by death: it is an immoral and evil act to remove from this earth as goodly a man as Mr Napier.'

Bled to death from a wound in the neck. Mary kneeled, shoved the newspaper under her bed, and banged her head on the wood when she heard a scratching noise at the window. She immediately thought of Kemal Pamuk, but the presence was undeniably Matthew's. She straightened up and unlatched the window. The bat dripped water onto the carpet, yet Matthew was as dry as Mary.

"I hope I didn't frighten you," he said, smiling slightly.

"How can you use such an abnormal method to get around?" Mary exclaimed. "What if someone else saw you?"

"They wouldn't have. And besides, it has its uses," Matthew said. "Did you hear what happen to Evelyn Napier?"

"Of course," Mary said. "And somehow, I suspect Kemal Pamuk is behind it."

"There's no doubt he is. I know Pamuk fed off of him," Matthew said bitterly. "But why would he kill him all of a sudden?"

He paused. "I'm going down to London tomorrow and see if I can't figure this out."

"Matthew, no!" Mary cried, unconsciously grabbing his hand. Her eyes seemed to well with tears as she said, "What if he hurts you?"

Matthew's astonishment was the same if he had seen a dog sit up and begin speaking English. Never had Lady Mary Crawley ever displayed concern for his well-being. And he certainly didn't expect her to be holding his hand. For some reason, she did not let go.

He looked straight into her eyes as he said, "Lady Mary, you know that remorseless monster is responsible for your curse. A vampire does not transform a victim without a motive. He has his reasons for turning you, whatever they may be. His killing Napier must not have been accidental either. He's planning something."

"Planning something?" Mary repeated.

"Yes, I'm sure of it," Matthew said. "Your transformation, Napier's murder, I_ know_ he's up to something, and all things considered it won't be pleasant for you."

His words shocked Mary. Matthew felt the hand holding onto his tremble slightly, and he folded his other hand over hers. "But I will not let him lay a hand on you again, even if he does hurt me. I will not let him control you or turn you into a monster such as him."

Mary was speechless. Matthew was protecting her!

"Don't be ridiculous. You shouldn't risk your life for me," she said finally.

"That's just what I'm doing," he said softly.

They looked at each other with such affection that seemed alien to them both. They might have kissed if the door had not opened unexpectedly. Quicker than lightning Matthew hid himself under Mary's bed.

Anna walked in, carefully handling one of Mary's evening gowns.

"Milady," she said. "How are you feeling?"

To anyone else this might have been simple rhetoric, but Mary understood exactly what Anna was asking.

"Well, I was wondering -" Mary began, "perhaps you could come in later and ..." She waved a hand to her neck. "If _you_ are feeling alright, that is."

"Of course, milady," Anna replied. She placed the evening gown on Mary's bed and left. Matthew emerged, holding the newspaper that Mary had shoved under the bed.

"This says the funeral is to be next week," he said. "Are you planning on going?"

"Edith is going to London in a few days. I doubt she'll want me following her," Mary answered. "And at any rate, if Kemal wants me, I think it would be best to stay here."

"Good," Matthew said. "I hope I can leave before dawn, if this wretched rain doesn't stop. I hate flying in the rain," Matthew said, watching the relentless storm. "I'll look out for Edith and make sure she's safe. Kemal might take a chance and target her."

"I wish she'd let me speak to her," Mary said. "She's still scared out of her mind."

"In time she will understand," Matthew promised.

Mary, with unfamiliar emotion surging through her suddenly pulled his head towards her and kissed him. His surprise was hard to hide, but he held her in a deep embrace and did pull away from her. It had been so, so long since he had been this close to another person, and with Mary in his arms he felt ... alive. He had not thought he could feel so whole with her. Mary withdrew from his lips, trying not to look embarrassed.

"Please be careful, Matthew," she said. Mary opened the window for him and watched him fly off, camouflaged against the dark clouds in the sky.

His kind was supposedly devoid of the human emotion of love, yet Matthew could feel his friendship with Lady Mary growing into just that.

* * *

The rain did not stop until late in the evening. The moon that usually was the only light in the night sky was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. It was well past midnight when Matthew opened the window and stepped outside as the large black bat that many times before flew over the rooftops of the village.

At that same moment, Mary bit into Anna's neck and swallowed the liquid that filled her mouth. The taste of blood was rewarding, just as sweet as before. She was still afraid to hurt Anna again, but this time her hunger was not a constant ache, and she had more control over herself. They were in Mary's bedroom just as before, since Gwen might hear Anna's groans of pain as she was held down to the bed and fed off of.

Halfway through, Mary removed her fangs from Anna's neck and asked, "Am I hurting you too much?" Anna, drowsy from blood loss, replied, "I'm alright, milady." Mary smiled and went back to her drink.

When she had drunk her fill, Mary removed her grasp from Anna's arms, and waited until Anna had regained her calm before asking, "Do you remember when Edith had a nightmare, a couple days ago?" Anna nodded.

"Well, I know that dream was about me and Matthew," Mary said.

"Mr Matthew?" Anna said. "He isn't a ... vampire as well, is he?"

"I'm not the only one around here," Mary said. "But it was Kemal Pamuk who ... changed me."

"I see," Anna said after a small pause.

Mary then explained what was happening to Edith.

"I want to tell her I won't hurt her, but she won't believe me," Mary said.

After all of their years together, Anna knew exactly what Mary wanted. "What would you like me to say to her?"

* * *

Matthew made it to London just before dawn, and he waited in his large hotel room for night to return. He hated the crowds of people; when he was surrounded by humans his thirst increased and his self-control lessened. London still smelled as it always had, although now it stank of automobiles and less of manure. It had been awhile since he had lived in London. Matthew had never enjoyed the large cities, but the city of London haunted him. He was here when he had been transformed.

With a newspaper Matthew read a separate account of Mr Napier's death than the one he had found under Lady Mary's bed. There was a paragraph about the talks Mr Napier had traveled to London for. He hadn't been staying very far away from where he was found in the river. At the Hotel Erebos where he and Kemal Pamuk were staying, there had been no sign of a struggle or even evidence to use to trace the murderer. The only proof that there was to suggest murder and not suicide were the two holes probably created by stabbing through which Mr Napier's blood had spilled. Matthew thought, _it had only been a few minutes between the time he was killed and when he was found in the river_. He wasn't sure what to think of Mr Pamuk now, if he was a fool or a madman.

He had to be careful, as Mary had warned him to be. Kemal was shaping up to be a more dangerous creature than he initially thought.

* * *

Anna was fixing Edith's light brown curls just before dinner. She noticed Edith was shifting rather uncomfortably.

"Are you feeling alright milady?" she asked. "Is that dress uncomfortable?"

"Oh no, I'm fine," Edith said. In truth, she was far from fine. She was glad that Matthew had gone down to London, but she was still shaken up from her dream, unable to forget their diabolical laughter and their eyes that she could not look away from.

"Have you been sleeping well?" Anna asked. Edith never rested well at night, even with Matthew in London since last night; she was afraid to sleep and feel him staring at her with his red eyes. She nodded anyway, though. There was no use in having Anna worry about her problems.

"Can you answer something for me milady?" Anna said. "I don't want you to think I'm intruding, but I'd like to help you."

Edith turned around so she would see Anna's face and not her reflection. She wondered what Anna was getting at. "Go on."

"Lady Edith, are you scared because Lady Mary is a vampire?"

Edith stopped breathing. She stared at Anna, unaware just how horror-stricken she looked.

"Because if you are, and Lady Mary said this herself, she doesn't want you to worry," Anna reassured her. "She doesn't want you to be frightened of her or Mr Matthew, because neither of them are going to hurt you."

Edith wasn't sure whether to be relieved or suspicious, yet she knew Anna was speaking the truth.

"And when you're in London, Mr Matthew is down there as well, but he's going to make sure you are safe," Anna added.

"Safe?" Edith asked. "From what?"

"Mary didn't say," Anna admitted. "But the point is, neither of them will hurt you."

It all sounded wrong to Edith. "And why should I trust Matthew to keep an eye on me if he bit Mary?" she exclaimed.

Anna looked at Edith oddly. "Lady Edith, it was Mr Pamuk who changed Mary, not Mr Matthew," she said. "I don't know how you picked _that _up, but there's no reason for you to be afraid of them. Lady Mary cares very much about you, and I'm sure Mr Matthew does as well."

Edith knew exactly what Anna was saying, but it still sounded like madness.

"Are you saying I shouldn't be afraid of them?" Edith exclaimed. "But they're monsters!"

"They're also family," Anna said.

The nightmare suddenly seemed less a reality and more like what it truly was; a dream, and only a dream. Edith felt her fear leave her; she felt as if several bricks had been removed from her chest.

"Oh God," she muttered. "I've made a terrible mistake."

Edith covered her face with her gloves so Anna would not see her tears.


	7. Ensnaring the Bait

As soon as the sun had set, Matthew made his way to the hotel where Kemal Pamuk was supposed to be staying. He stood at the street across, his face hidden, as Pamuk's car drove up to the door, and he stepped out. Matthew's fists clenched and his disgust of him seemed to surge throughout him at just the sight of him. He was unchanged since he'd been at Downton. His bronze skin seemed to shine even in the dim street lamps, and when he smiled at a man he shook hands with his white teeth glinted. Yes, it was no wonder Mary had fallen for him quickly. Even across the street Matthew saw pointed nails on his long hands.

Matthew had no weapon on him right now, only his inhuman strength. He dreamed of ripping the demon's throat out and forcing a stake through his cold unbeating heart. Pamuk was unforgiving in defiling Mary, a monster in more ways than one.

Some other men followed Pamuk into the hotel, and even in his cheaper coat and hat Matthew blended in with them. Pamuk was in the lobby speaking in undertones to some of the men, and Matthew went into the bar, which was a safe point to observe them from. He grimaced when he sipped at his whiskey: it was of lesser quality than the kind Lord Grantham served and a poor substitute for blood. He listened to their conversation but could barely hear them with the chatter going on in the bar.

He wasn't sure if he should barge into Kemal's room and kill him there. He had no idea how he'd finish him off. He was strong enough to rip a man's head off ... and then he remembered the dagger.

That dagger had been crafted when he was still human. Uncannily sharp even after all these years, it could saw through bone in a matter of seconds. Despite being intended only for show, that dagger had killed one person ... and Matthew was hoping to kill another with it.

Kemal disappeared to his room, and Matthew left the hotel. The night was starless, but the moon shone brightly. He went back to his hotel, considered going out to feed, and left as the clock tower sounded midnight.

* * *

**Next Evening**

Mary hardly glanced in the direction of the man trying to make conversation with her. Several important men were dining with the family tonight, and while some showed an interest in her, Mary's thoughts were locked on Matthew. Her father had been informed Matthew had left for urgent business, but only Mary knew of the danger Matthew was putting himself in - just for her. She was both astonished and grateful for this courageous act, but even now she felt guilty for being the reason he was taking such risks. If something happened to him, she'd never be able to live with herself.

In the drawing room, Mary stood alone with her sisters. Since last night, Edith had relaxed somewhat, and Mary concluded that whatever Anna had said had broken Edith's fright. Most men had given up talking to her, and Mary stood alone, wishing she could help Matthew somehow. She was no longer a defenseless little girl - she was a vampire, same as him - but he'd warned her the danger of meeting up with Kemal again, what he might do to her.

"Are you not enjoying yourself, Lady Mary?" Sir Richard asked.

He was a newspaper tycoon who owned several papers and worked in London, Mary knew. He wasn't as young as Matthew looked, but he did not have an ugly appearance. She had no idea why he was here at Downton, but she'd paid little attention to him until now.

"I've not felt myself lately, I'm afraid," Mary answered, not turning to face him.

"We've all had a bit of a rough time recently," Edith said from the couch. Mary frowned slightly at Edith, but she found her words were not out of malice.

"I see," Sir Richard said. "I recall Lord Grantham mentioning one of you going to London soon."

"I'm taking the train tomorrow," Edith said. "I haven't been down in a while, and it does get boring at home."

Mary thought Sir Richard looked somewhat disappointed, but he smiled at Edith. "Perhaps we'll see each other at the station. Are you not going, Lady Mary?"

"I'm afraid not," Mary said, fingering her large necklace. "I'm still in recovery from ... my ordeal."

"What a shame," said Sir Richard. "I should very much like to get to know you better."

Mary wasn't sure what to say to this. The last person to say something similar was Kemal Pamuk. And something about Sir Richard made her tense. He was looking at her with interest, like she was a magnificent piece of art he wanted to procure. It was the feeling that there was something odd about him.

"Believe me, Sir Richard, there are things about me you'd rather not know," she said. "Very ... unpleasant things."

Later, as they ascended the stairs to their bedrooms, Mary said to Edith, "Anna spoke to you, didn't she?"

"She did," Edith said.

"And you know what she said was true, that I would never hurt you no matter what?"

Edith stopped and turned to face Mary. "I know that now. But before I didn't. I was afraid of you, and I thought you'd hurt me because ..." She looked embarrassed.

"Because I'm a vampire," Mary finished.

Edith nodded.

"Oh Edith. I'm so sorry I frightened you so much," Mary said. "But you've got to understand that I would never hurt you, no matter the circumstances."

Edith smiled. "Thank you Mary."

Both of them felt like embracing each other, but that would have been completely out of either of their characters. Instead they continued upstairs to their bedrooms.

"I suppose I've been reading too many books," Edith said.

"Clearly," Mary scoffed.

"I guess I should tell Sibyl you're not going to come and suck my blood in the middle of the night," Edith laughed.

Mary felt no offense and smiled with her. "You're still going to London tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Yes, but ... " Edith hesitated. "Anna said Matthew's going to be there keeping an eye on me. Why, exactly?"

Mary was reluctant to say anything, Edith knew. "You have to tell me, Mary," she said. "I can't be kept in the dark about this if I'm apparently in danger."

"Fine," Mary sighed. "It's Kemal Pamuk."

Worry returned to Edith as quickly as it had passed.

* * *

Despite learning the danger she was in, Edith slept soundly, and in the morning she went downstairs wearing her traveling coat and hat. Mary and Sibyl walked behind her.

"I don't understand why you're still going," Sibyl said.

"Because I haven't actually been to London in a while," Edith said coarsely. "There's so many new and modern things to see now anyway."

"Well, just be careful," Mary said. "I don't know if _he _will follow you or anything, but just be on your guard. Remember, Matthew's going to be looking out for you."

"My sister turns into a vampire and suddenly I'm at risk of being followed," Edith grumbled.

"But remember to enjoy yourself," Sibyl said. "You aren't a criminal, so don't act like you're being followed. I don't think there's anything to worry about."

"I hope not," Mary muttered.

The train arrived promptly at the station, and to Edith's relief she did not see Sir Richard Carlisle. She did not particularly like the man; something about the way he was eyeing Mary did not make her feel comfortable. As if Edith already did not have enough to feel uncomfortable about.

The train arrived in London in the afternoon. Aunt Rosamund's new chauffeur, a young Irishman, collected her at the station, and as the car drove through the streets to Belgrave square the clear blue sky began to darken. Edith sighed with irritation; she had been hoping it would not rain while she was here since the weather in Downton had been dismal for the past few weeks.

They arrived as a brisk wind blew through the trees, rustling what leaves were still on the trees. The Irish chauffeur took her bags up the stairs and opened the door for her. As soon as Edith stepped inside, she realized something was very wrong.

Not a soul could bee seen inside. It was colder inside than outside, and darker than it should be in the day. There was a very unearthly feel, a mysterious aura, that surrounded the house, and it sent a chill through Edith.

"Aunt Rosamund?" she called out. Not a sound came from inside the house. It was completely deserted and stood as if dead.

Bewildered, Edith turned to the young man standing behind her. He looked unfazed at the empty house.

"I'm sorry, Lady Edith," he said, flashing unnaturally sharp teeth. "Stay still."

He stepped towards her and pressed his fangs into the nape of her neck. Before Edith could register her horror, her body seemed to lose all strength. She swayed on her feet, then dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Effortlessly, the young Irishman slung her over his shoulders and carried her upstairs. No one from Lady Rosamund's household was here, and the house seemed to have frozen in time. Yet the house had its inhabitants.

Sir Richard Carlisle was waiting for him at the top of the stairs, red eyes watching the girl.

"Finally, Tom," he said. "Put her in here." He motioned to the bedroom behind him.

Tom Branson lay the limp woman gently on the bed. "Where's Lady Rosamund?" he asked Sir Richard.

"None of your concern," he said, glowering at Tom. "You have business to attend to this evening. I suggest you prepare."

Tom nodded and went back downstairs. Sir Richard looked at Lady Edith. Briefly, he considered biting into the soft neck of that young, untainted woman, then decided that would not be wise. Kemal would not like that.

As Sir Richard stood waiting, he heard the scratching at the window. He saw outside that a fog had gathered. In the midst of that fog a large black bat was flapping its wings against the glass panes. Sir Richard strode over to the window and unlocked it, watching nonchalantly as the bat assumed its human form.

"I see Tom has proved himself a worthy acolyte," Kemal said, looking at the sleeping figure on the bed in front of him. "Where is he?"

"He is preparing for his journey north," Sir Richard said. "But do you think it wise to bring them both here?"

"Yes," Kemal said. "When Lady Sibyl goes missing Lady Mary will make her way down here, looking for her sisters. The perfect bait." His fangs turned his smile gaunt. "Besides, once my bride is in my arms again, I may let you and Mr Branson take your own ... reward."

The scent of aristocratic blood made Kemal's mouth water. He remembered the deliciousness of Mary's blood with longing, and he could not wait until he could see that beautiful pale face and touch her soft skin again. She would be coming back to him very soon.

* * *

Tom arrived at the large house after dark. He had flown for most of the evening and was exhausted, though his task was far from complete. He was thirsty, and the smell inside the stone walls was enticing.

He found the room he had been told held the youngest Crawley girl. Willing himself to focus, he stared unblinkingly at the beautiful sleeping figure in the bed. Lady Sibyl arose from her bed and stood, entranced. She walked with a languid pace, the way one would imagine the dead would walk, then she slowly lifted her hand to the latch and opened the window.

Tom could not believe what he was doing to such a pretty girl. He thought, even though her eyes were glassy and her face emotionless, that she was one of the most beautiful girls he had seen this century. She was so young, so full of ... life. Tom felt an urge to bite into her neck this very minute, but he held off. If he was lucky, Pamuk would allow him to take her as a reward for his service.

He held his hand out in front of her eyes. "Show me Lady Mary's bedroom." he commanded.

Lady Sibyl said nothing as she walked, her arms hanging limply at her sides. She seemed to glide silently across the hall, Tom following at a distance. She stopped outside of Mary's room, standing beside the door. Her face remained impassive as Tom bent down and slid an envelope under the door.

It was easier than he thought to hold her in her trance. She would not put up a fight. He put his cold hand into hers and led back to the room, guiding her not back to her bed but to the open window.

"Hold onto me, tightly," he said, taking her arms and folding them around his shoulders. He noticed how light she was. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck. Deftly but carefully he crawled down the exterior of the large house, keeping Lady Sibyl safe from falling. He was supposed to bring her back alive. He was glad that she did not know what was happening. Her mind was asleep but her body was awake.

Tom landed on the ground as lightly as a cat. Beside him he felt the girl shiver as a wind whipped past, though vacancy remained in her eyes.

"Come on, quickly," Tom said, taking her hand.

The night train left the station with two uninvited passengers. It pulled into London late in the night. Sibyl was caught in her sleep, unaware that she was being led right into her aunt's home, now overrun by vampires. As she stood over her sister's motionless body, Tom released his hold on her, and she collapsed in the same deep sleep as Edith.

* * *

Anna discovered the envelope on Lady Mary's floor by stepping on it, and she picked it up with great curiosity. It was small, square, and hand written fine penmanship.

"What do you have there?" Mary asked her. She never slept much at night, but it relaxed her to lie in the dark.

"It was on the floor," Anna said.

"Give it to me," Mary said, holding her hand out. She opened the crinkling yellow parchment and read:

_Come find them._


	8. Dark Roots

When Matthew stopped outside Lady Rosamund's home, he knew something was very wrong.

The past few days had not led him anywhere; nothing brought him closer to Pamuk. He did nothing in London but feed and envision Pamuk's demise. He thought about returning to Downton, but he had made a promise to Mary that he'd make sure nothing unfortunate befell Lady Edith.

Yet standing at the grand house in Belgrave square, he could sense that something was already wrong. No light came from the windows. The air seemed colder around the house. Matthew stepped closer and put his hand to the door. He could feel it in his bones - something evil was inside.

Matthew held the handle of the door and turned it. It swung open. The foyer looked as if it had been untouched for a while. Dust had settled on the chairs and the tables. Matthew closed the door behind him, slowly so it would not make a sound, and whispered, "Lady Edith?"

He was sure he picked up her scent, but just a hint of it. Was she in here, all alone? He whispered her name again, just a little bit louder this time, and heard no answer. His heart sank; he had been too late.

He heard footsteps from inside the house. "Who's there?" Matthew said in a voice. He stiffened and watched a man come forth from the shadows by the stairs.

"Who are you?" Matthew asked. He knew this was not one of Lady Rosamund's servants.

The man hissed savagely, showing his fangs. He seemed taken aback when he got not reaction from Matthew.

"Where is Lady Edith?" Matthew took a few steps forward.

Tom Branson looked at Matthew Crawley, unsure. He pointed an elongated nail at Matthew and snarled, "I don't care if you know about Lady Edith ... but you have no business here."

Matthew grabbed Tom by the neck, slammed him against the stone pillar by the staircase, and snarled. "She _is _my business, and if you have harmed her, I will rip off your head."

"There'll be no need for that, Matthew," spoke a voice that made Matthew freeze. It had been a lifetime since he had heard that voice, a voice only an evil spirit could possess. He turned around and saw the face of Sir Richard Carlisle.

"It's good to see you again," Sir Richard said.

"I'm afraid I can't say the same," Matthew retorted. He had both dreaded and anticipated this moment for a long time.

Sir Richard smirked. "You haven't changed much. I suppose you are a bit stronger though." Every word dripped with venom.

"Wouldn't you like to find out?" Matthew said, reaching for the dagger beneath his coat.

"Oh, believe me, I would," Sir Richard said. His hand shot out, and Matthew's eyes fixed with his. He crumpled to the floor. "But we have to make sure you're not in the way."

* * *

"Carson?" Lord Grantham looked around the morning room curiously. "Where are the girls?"

"I'm not sure, m'lord," Mr Carson said. "Shall I see if I can find them?"

"Please," Lord Grantham said.

Mr Carson hurried out into the big hall. "Daisy!" he called out. The timid girl was making her way upstairs with her buckets of cleaning tools.

"If you're going upstairs, please check that Lady Mary and Lady Sibyl are not still in bed," he said to her. Yet just as he was speaking, he heard the panicked voice of Anna calling for him.

Lord Grantham waited for only a few minutes before Carson returned.

"It appears they're not in the house, m'lord," Carson said.

"Where are they?" Lord Grantham asked, sipping his tea.

"No one knows, m'lord," the butler said. Lord Grantham looked at Carson sharply.

"Anna says that Lady Mary was dressed when she left the room, but never saw her leave. And Lady Sibyl was not in her bed this morning."

"Good God!" Lord Grantham stood up very suddenly. "I want them found before anything happens to them. Send for the police, gather a search party."

Carson hurried out of the room again. Lord Grantham let out a long breath and wondered how much more of this he could take before he went mad.

All hell seemed to break loose.

* * *

As Mary skimmed beneath the cloud cover, she found flying gave her a feeling of exhilaration that almost scared her. To see the country span farther than she thought, to feel the wind underneath her had once been a dream. However, the ecstasy of flying was overshadowed by her panic.

She'd dressed so she could have time to think about what to do. As soon as Anna had left, Mary had made up her mind to go to London.

Matthew hadn't exactly told her how to transform and fly, but when Mary unlatched the window she found all she had to do was will it. She unconsciously found herself growing smaller, growing wings, finding the estate far below her. A few times she nearly fell, but the knowledge had somehow embedded itself into Mary.

And as she flew she prayed that she would not arrive too late.

* * *

_"If you stay still, you won't feel a thing."_

Edith felt the sharp pain of Kemal's fangs digging into her neck, her blood running into his mouth, and his moans of satisfaction. Her nightmare had become real. She screamed and thrashed, but Kemal's heavy body pinned her down. He laughed as she screamed, and Edith cried when she saw Kemal over her, laughing maliciously, and seeing her blood dripping on his chin made her feel sick and weak.

"Did that hurt, little girl?" Kemal said, walking around the dark bedroom. Edith was cold - goosebumps had formed on her flesh - and she was shaking so badly she rattled the bed. This was exactly like her nightmare, only it was Kemal Pamuk terrorizing her. Thick curtains hung from the windows not allowing even a sliver of sunlight to enter the house. Kemal's red eyes glittered in the dark.

Tom stood in another room with Sibyl, who was lying on the bed still in her nightgown. When she had woken up Tom had nipped her a bit, just to get her under control, and now she was cowering in the corner, shivering and staring up in fright at Tom. She heard Edith scream, a torturous sound, and Tom could not help but feel sorry for the trembling girl. He could see her thoughts, and her panicked thoughts broke his heart.

Tom had been in an immortal state for fifty years, and even as a human he saw the horrific deeds mortals caused. He had been lucky to escape the knives of the thieves who stabbed his family and looted the town. He couldn't remember who had turned him, he had been left alone once he had turned, and being on his own in a time when vampires were still feared among the living had intensified his contempt for humans. Feeding from them and letting them die had given him pleasure. But gazing at Sibyl ... he felt a pity for her. She was still so innocent, and no doubt this trauma would haunt her. Even though his lust for her blood tormented him, he could not attack her just yet.

Another scream from the other room startled Sibyl, and she covered her ears, trying not to burst out crying. Her fingers and lips were blue, and she shivered. Tom could not bear to watch her suffer. He took the blanket from the foot of the bed, unfolded it, and handed it to Sibyl. She didn't take it, but looked up at Tom, confused. She flinched as he draped it over her shoulders, trying not to touch her. Sibyl pulled the blanket closer and looked at her feet.

One more hideous scream, and Edith fainted. Kemal left her alone in her room and now he stood by the bed Sibyl sat on. She watched Kemal with wide eyes.

"You have done well, Branson," Kemal said. He regarded Sibyl with a lecherous gaze. "You may take your reward."

Sibyl cried out, understanding his words. "Please no, please no, please no," she whispered under her breath. Kemal laughed. Tom glanced unsuredly at Sibyl, who was suddenly deathly pale.

"What is that face?" Kemal said to Tom. "You make take her now."

"I ... can't," Tom said. Kemal looked skeptically at Tom, his eyebrows raised.

"She doesn't deserve this," Tom said. "Neither of them do."

Kemal's red irises became livid. "Are you having sympathy for this girl?" he said angrily. "Don't you disobey me, you craven cur!"

Fire seared through Tom's empty veins, and Sibyl watched his face contort in pain. Kemal held him in his gaze for ten seconds and then released Tom.

"Take her," he said. "That's an order."

Tom gasped for air he didn't need. He saw Kemal, clearly intent on hearing Sibyl scream. He saw Sibyl, her lip quivering and eyes widening. Though he wanted to leave Sibyl alone, he had no choice. He climbed onto the bed, ignoring the distressing sobs, wrapped his arms around her and bit into her flesh. Her blood was sweet, like honey, and yet he had to force himself to keep his hold on her, despite her tears that disheartened him.

Kemal watched Tom drink from Sibyl for a minute, and then left the room. Tom was a strange one indeed; strong and patriotic, but the right words bent him to obedience. He went downstairs to Sir Richard. He was in the parlor, standing over Matthew. He was still unconscious, and he lay on the floor. Kemal stood beside Sir Richard and looked at Matthew's still face.

"I thought he'd be awake by now," Kemal remarked.

"I'm keeping him in his sleep," Sir Richard said. "A bit harder than on a human."

"How is it you know him?" Kemal asked.

"I met him at the Tudor court," Sir Richard said, not taking his eyes off Matthew. "Even then a handsome fellow. He's one of the few I changed."

Kemal, not moving his head, observed Matthew and Sir Richard. Sir Richard did not look much like a vampire; his skin was not as pale, and he hadn't been turned at a young age. Nevertheless, Sir Richard had cunning and capability that Kemal found indispensable.

"You know his lordship will order a search, and one of the places they'll look is here," Sir Richard said. Kemal thought, considered, and said, "Keep lookout at the foyer, then. You've kept him asleep until tomorrow, I think."

Sir Richard opened his mouth to argue, but even Kemal's insanity disturbed him. He followed Kemal out of the parlor and locked the door.

* * *

_On the fourth night he lay in his bed, wondering when they'd come for him. Carlisle should have sent them by now. They'd arrest him, throw him in the Tower, and if he was lucky, he would be given the quick death of a beheading. Four nights he had been hiding here, and with every passing hour he listened intently for a dozen footsteps approaching him. He would not fight; to die would be mercy. He was so wracked with guilt, with grief, and with fear._

_Lavinia. His poor, dear Lavinia._

_Matthew remembered, so clearly even now, her glassy eyes staring at him, but not in him. She moved as if asleep, slowly walking towards him with languid steps. He could see nothing in her eyes, no emotion in her expression._

_And when he knew that she would never be his again, he took the dagger from the sheath at his side and pushed it deep into her heart._

_It was her blood that stained his clothes and crept under his fingernails. Her own lifeblood blackened the green gown she was wearing. The red on the dagger shone brightly when he wrenched it from her breast. Yet she fell to the floor with hardly a gasp or a widen of her glassy eyes._

_Now he hid here, the room as black as the sky outside. He did not have the courage to stab himself with his dirty knife, knowing that such an act would send him to hell. His Lavinia was waiting in heaven for him, he was sure. He could only wait until he confessed to his crime in front of a man of the church and died at whatever execution His Majesty would arrange for him. An axe to the neck would hopefully be his fate. He had been a faithful friend to the king, all of his family had. Surely the king would not deny him a clean death._

_"Musing on your death, Matthew?"_

_Even without seeing his face Matthew knew who it was. Though he had been prepared to hear that voice, he was surprised to hear it after such a long silence. There had been no footsteps, he had been sure; he would have heard them in the quiet._

_"Do you want to be condemned as a murderer and burn in the flames of hell?" the voice in the dark drawled._

_"I pray to God that he shall forgive me," Matthew answered, not moving at all. He hated Richard Carlisle for what he had done to Lavinia and the witchcraft he had cursed her with._

_He heard Carlisle laugh. "I was sure your faith would have failed you by now." He stepped closer to the bed, and Matthew turned just enough to see him out of the corner of his eye. "Your prayers didn't save your beloved Lavinia. Now she's damned ... because of you!"_

_Carlisle appeared from the dark corner, and Matthew saw that his face had become very, very savage. He had no time to react as Carlisle had him pinned on his back with enormous strength. Matthew's heart raced, and he tried to keep from trembling. _

_"You are not worthy enough to die!" hissed Carlisle. "You deserve to live forever in your guilt and agony. You deserve to live as a monster."_

_Though he was strong, Matthew could not fight his captor. His arms felt as if they were held down by a block of stone. A new fear had paralyzed him. The fear that this was not a dream. He was staring up at Carlisle, and his heart stopped when he saw the blue eyes he saw a moment ago were now as red as the blood on his dagger. He now understood who - what - Carlisle was. He knew what was about to happen to him._

_Oh God, he thought, this cannot be!_

_Matthew was frozen with terror as Carlisle leaned forward with teeth as sharp as a dog's inching toward his skin. A cold mouth settled on his neck, and Carlisle's fangs dug painfully into his flesh. Matthew had never known such pain or such horror; the creature was merciless. He groaned as he felt his lifeblood being drained from him. His strength diminished, and he could no longer even think of fighting off this demon. All he wanted was for this slow path to death to finally cease._

_But his fate would be worse._

_He was so weak in the end, so close to death, that he lay motionless as Carlisle opened a vein on his arm with a knife-sharp nail, then pressed the bleeding skin to Matthew's lips. Matthew was helpless against the sudden, inhuman urge to swallow the blood that reached his tongue. There was nothing he could have done to stop it. Nothing would have stopped Richard Carlisle._

* * *

By the time she got to Belgrave square, Mary felt as if she'd fall apart. Suddenly on the ground again, she felt dizzy and warm. She put a hand on the house to steady herself. After a few minutes, Mary leapt up to the parlor window and saw everything was completely dark. Her aunt was not home.

Mary folded her hand into a fist, and put it through the glass. Shards rained onto the floor, and she climbed through the window carefully. Something was wrong about the air in here, something ... evil.

Matthew heard the window break and he began to come to. His head had a dull throbbing, and his vision was somewhat blurred. He saw Mary's head above him, and she was calling his name. Her voice was faint and distant.

Matthew tried to sit up and gingerly touched his head. "Mary," he said, groaning a bit. "Wha - how - are you here?"

"I ... flew," Mary said sheepishly. She laughed a bit at the expression on Matthew's face.

"You made it all this way and you didn't fall?" Matthew said, stunned. Mary nodded, and then her face turned dark. "Where's Edith and Sibyl?"

"Upstairs, maybe," Matthew said, craning his head towards the ceiling. "They found me before I could find her."

"Then I'm going to get her," Mary said, striding to the door.

"Mary, no!" Matthew stood up and grabbed her arm. "If Kemal so much as touches you, he can control you. He turned you, he has that kind of power."

"Then it's a risk I'll take," Mary said. Matthew didn't let go of her.

"And how are you going to save your sisters?" he asked. "You can't take him with your bare hands, you aren't strong enough."

"What about you?"

"By the time I get up the stairs I'll be perfectly fine," he said.

Mary opened her mouth to ask him if he was absolutely sure, but she heard a faint whimper come from upstairs. "Sibyl," Mary gasped. She ran out the parlor door, sprinted for the stairs - strong arms were suddenly around her, crushing her.

"Get away from her!" she heard Matthew shout. Mary tried to break free, but she saw it was Sir Richard holding on to her, and her efforts were in vain. He was older and stronger, and Mary could do nothing against him.

Matthew suddenly produced a sharp blade and gripped it tightly by his side. "Release her, or I slit your throat."

Sir Richard watched Matthew from across the hall and laughed. He let go of Mary and stepped around her sniveling figure. "Do you not remember who I am?"

He outstretched a hand, and Mary saw Matthew writhe in pain as if tortured from the inside. She reached up and grabbed Sir Richard's arm. It was enough for Matthew to pick up the knife he had dropped and run straight for Sir Richard. Mary felt Sir Richard's hard eyes on her as he slapped her away and seized the blade in his hand. Neither Matthew nor Sir Richard loosened their grip on the knife.

"Mary!"

All three of them looked and saw Kemal standing on the stairs. His fangs were still marked with blood at the tips.

"Mary ... my love," he said as if breathless. "You've come at last."

Mary screamed.


	9. Ashes and Shadows

Mary screamed a piteous and terrifying cry as Kemal leapt from the stairs and landed lightly in front of her. Sir Richard had Matthew's wrist and held the blade to his throat. Mary tried to back away from Kemal, and as she shrank against the wall she looked more like a vulnerable child than a vampire.

"Don't you dare-!" Matthew's sentence turned into a strangled gasp. Sir Richard pinned him against a wall and positioned the knife point on his neck. Kemal watched the scene and turned to Mary, a nasty smile on his face.

"You chose your friends wrong," he said.

When Kemal came closer she raised a hand and struck him across the face hard enough to break a human's neck. Her nails left deep scars across his cheek.

Kemal straightened and stood in front of Mary. Her red eyes burned with fury. She hissed at him, a malicious sound that stunned him. When his surprise vanished he held his hand in front of her eyes. Though her mind was still alert, her body was slow and refused to do what she wanted.

"You are mine, now and forevermore, and I will not stand for your foolishness," Kemal declared. "When I first laid eyes on you I swore I would have you for eternity, no matter what." He leaned forward to kiss her.

Sir Richard was knocked to the floor, and Matthew grabbed the knife before it fell. Tom Branson jumped away and shoved Kemal away from Mary.

"Go get your sisters," Tom grunted as he held Kemal down to the floor. Mary saw Matthew standing by Sir Richard, who was struggling to stand up.

"Mary, go!" Matthew shouted. Hesitating none, Mary rushed up the stairs.

Sir Richard rubbed his shoulder. "You _have_ grown stronger," he remarked. "Almost as much as I."

Matthew held the knife, elbow bent, rage overflowing. "I promised I'd never murder another man for a long time, but now I can't wait to cut your throat with this."

Sir Richard looked at the long knife. "You would murder me with the same weapon that you used to 'free' your beloved?" He laughed. "Frankly, I am surprised you still have it."

"If I could not have death, then I would have revenge," Matthew said. "I swore to that a long time ago."

Tom emitted a cry as he was hurled to the floor. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled at Kemal. Kemal grasped Tom's throat like a rag and threw him across the room. He slammed into the wall, and he lay on the floor still as stone. Kemal began to the walk to the stairs, calling for Mary.

"It seems you are needed elsewhere," Sir Richard said. Matthew's eyes did not leave him.

"Kemal!," shouted Sir Richard. Kemal stopped and looked in his direction. "My business here is no more."

As Kemal screamed his rage Sir Richard became a cloud of black smoke, and he hurtled to the door. It splintered as Sir Richard escaped into the sky.

Matthew's outrage was unmistakable. He could barely contain his fury as he saw the black smoke dissipate high above the rooftops. He shouted a single word, "Coward!"

Red eyes burning with rage, teeth bared in a beastly snarl, he leapt on top of Pamuk.

* * *

Mary rushed to the bedroom door. She picked up Edith's scent, and also the smell of blood. She turned at the handle, only to find it was locked. Mustering the strength that she still had, she pushed on the wood and the door ripped from its hinges and fell to the floor with a thud.

Edith lay on the bed, limp as a rag doll. A great bruise blackened her neck. Droplets of her blood stained the bedsheets.

Mary took ahold of her shoulders and shook her, calling her name over and over. Edith's eyes fluttered open weakly. She saw Mary's fangs and red eyes, and for a moment mistook her for Kemal. Yet when her eyes adjusted Edith held onto her as if she'd never let go.

"Oh Mary, he bit me ... it hurts," she sobbed. "It hurt so much."

"I know," Mary said. "Edith, where's Sibyl? Have you seen Aunt Rosamund?" she asked urgently.

Edith shook her head, curls bouncing. "I haven't seen Aunt Rosamund. I saw them take Sibyl into the next room."

Mary looked out into the hallway. "Can you stand up," Mary asked Edith.

"I-I think so." Edith tried, but she wobbled on her feet a bit. Mary forced her to sit again and said, "Wait here. I'll see to Sibyl."

Mary found the other bedroom where Sibyl was. She was lying on her back on the bed, even weaker than Edith. She saw the puncture wounds on Sibyl's neck, recently made. Her pallor was sickly and her hands were blue with cold, though she had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"Sibyl?" Mary cried. "Oh no, Sibyl!" Mary tried to shake her awake, but she was weak from blood lost and made no noise. Mary took hold of Sibyl's wrist. Her pulse was weak and her skin cold.

Mary heard the crack of wood breaking, and a harsh cry. She immediately remembered Matthew downstairs, and rushed back to Edith. "Stay here," Mary commanded. "Whatever happens, stay here."

Before Edith could object, Mary hurried back to the foyer in time to see Matthew throw himself onto Kemal. Carlisle was nowhere in sight. The front door was reduced to splinters.

Mary pitched herself forward and flew through the air briefly to land very close to Tom's mangled body. Kemal struggled underneath Matthew, trying to wrench away. His eyes were wide and shone brightly. He reached for Mary, and his voice was choked as he said her name.

"Mary, my love," he sputtered. "Don't let him ...!"

Matthew grabbed a fistful of Kemal's hair and forced his head back, totally exposing his neck. He pressed the sharp knife to Kemal's throat.

"I'd kill a thousand people before I let someone like _you_ control Mary!" Matthew said vindictively. His eyes burned as much as Kemal's, but with unparalleled anger. He slashed the blade across his throat and let Kemal fall to the floor.

Mary stepped away from Kemal's body. "Is he dead?" she asked tentatively.

"No," Matthew said, looking at Kemal with revulsion. "But I should think you don't want to watch me hack off his head."

Mary shook her head. "Edith is awake, but Sibyl was bitten recently and she hasn't recovered. Where's Sir Richard?"

"That coward escaped," Matthew said bitterly. "And he took my chance of revenge along with him."

"Revenge?" Mary repeated.

Tom had regained consciousness as soon as Matthew opened Kemal's throat, and he groaned in pain as his head began to throb. He pushed himself to his feet. Both Mary and Matthew looked at him unsurely.

"If you want to kill me too, go ahead," Tom said. "But I want to apologize for what I did to Sibyl."

Matthew still looked doubtful, but Mary relaxed.

"I saw how scared she was," Tom continued, "and I tried to help her stay calm." He pointed to Kemal. "He forced me to, and that's why I did it."

Suddenly, Kemal twitched. Tom and Mary backed away, yet Matthew kept the blade to his skin. "Hurry up and do it," Tom urged. "He's a thousand years old, and the cut you made won't keep him down for long."

"Get back to the girls," Matthew said. "This will not be pretty."

He watched Tom and Mary go back upstairs, then kneeled on the cold floor. He saw Kemal's lips move and a faint whisper caught his ear.

"Mary ... my one ... true love ... come back to me," Kemal said, his words somewhat muted. Matthew forced him to look up at his face. He felt Kemal tremble beneath him.

"No one as cruel as you deserves someone like Mary," Matthew said coldly. He raised the knife high above Kemal's head and brought it down.

Tom quickly covered Sibyl's ears as Kemal's roar of pain echoed through the house. Mary did not feel as sick as she thought she would, but Edith shivered in the cold, and Mary held her close. They waited as the vampire's screams finally subsided. When at last the house was silent Mary felt as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. After a few moments, Matthew reappeared in Sibyl's bedroom. His knife was clean.

"Lady Rosamund and the servants were put in a trance and left in the pantry downstairs," he said. "I made sure they stay asleep for a little while longer. They won't remember anything. Can't do anything about the mess, though."

"We should be able to make it back to Downton by evening," Mary said. "Can you stand up, Sibyl?"

"I'd like to see she makes it back home safely," Tom said. He took her in his arms and lifted her easily from the bed. Edith rose uneasily and with Mary and Matthew holding her arms she followed Tom out to the corridor. Everyone stepped across the thin coating of white dust at the bottom of the stairs.

* * *

Lady Rosamund climbed out of the pantry, trying to walk straight despite the black spots that clouded her vision. She saw the window glass littered in the parlor, the front door reduced to slivers of wood, most of the furniture in the foyer ruined, and the floor covered in white dust. With difficulty she managed to get outside and phoned the police to warn them of the "destructive hooligans" running around Belgrave square.


	10. Ad Mortem

"You see Sir Richard, I am at my wit's end, and if you can at least aid in finding my daughters, I would be most grateful."

Cora heard her husband's conversation with Sir Richard even with her study door closed, and she rolled her eyes. Was Robert honestly going to ask that man for help? It wasn't that Sir Richard wasn't capable of figuring out enigmas, but he wasn't Cora's favorite person. _Still, I'd better show my support,_ she thought, and closed the door to her study.

"I wasn't aware of your admiration towards Lady Mary," she heard Robert say from the library. She didn't hear how Sir Richard answered, his voice had gone low.

Before she made it into the library, a dull thud came from inside. Cora stopped, listened. She heard nothing more, not even Sir Richard and Robert talking. For a second she wondered if she had even heard correctly. She dismissed the silly idea that she was losing her hearing and turned the handle to the library door. She stepped inside.

The shadow enveloped her before she saw it.

* * *

It was evening when the train pulled into Downton. Edith had regained some strength and could walk on her own, but Sibyl was still somewhat weak. Tom knew he had taken more blood from her than he should have, and he hoped that by bringing her home would ease some of his guilt. Mary sat beside Matthew, and with her exhaustion she felt her thirst returning. None of them spoke until they had descended onto the platform.

"How are we going to explain this all to Papa?" Mary wondered anxiously. It was dark as they walked past the village.

"I suppose the truth," Matthew said. "Though I'm not too keen on that."

"He'll think us both mad," Mary agreed. "But I don't think I can hide it forever."

Matthew nodded. "Coming to Downton has made it harder for me to hide. And since this happened Lord Grantham will find out sooner or later."

Mary shivered, though she was hardly cold. "I just hope Sibyl gets better soon."

"She will," Matthew said, "except I doubt she'll ever forget the trauma she's been through."

They came up to the large stone house. "They'll be at dinner," Mary said, "but they'll come see Sibyl as soon as possible." She rang the doorbell and they waited.

Mary felt Matthew go very still beside her. "What is it?"

"I can feel it ... the same aura around Lady Rosamund's house," Matthew said slowly. He rammed his elbow into the door and the lock shattered.

"Wha - that's our house you're kicking down!" Edith cried.

Mary could feel it too. It made her feel cold inside, her heart filled with dread.

"Tom, get Sibyl and Edith to there rooms. We'll find Mama and Papa."

The front hall felt icy cold. Except for their footsteps, there was hardly a sound. It seemed as dead as Aunt Rosamund's home.

"Where are all the servants?" Mary brought her voice down to a whisper. "Oh no ..." If something happened to Mama or Papa ...

From the corner of his eye Matthew saw a maid, Gwen, standing by the green baize door. Her eyes rested upon Mary and Matthew, yet she gave no indication that she noticed them. In fact, she didn't move at all. She just stood like a statue. Mary saw one of the footmen, William, standing just outside the dining room. His face carried the same blank expression.

"Good god, they're all in a trance," Matthew said.

"All of them?" Mary asked. "Where's Mama and Papa?"

Matthew breathed in the air, and caught Lord Grantham's old aristocratic stench that often hung in the library. "Both of them are in the library."

Both of them dashed through the small library. Mary gasped loudly, her eyes wide. Her mother's arm lay outstretched on the floor behind one of the red couches. Lord Grantham was facedown on the carpet. Sir Richard was sitting in a leisurely fashion on the red couch facing the small library, Lord Grantham's head beside his feet.

"Judging from the fact that both of you are standing here, I'm guessing Kemal is no more," he said.

"If you want to live I suggest you go before I rip your head off," Matthew said sternly. He was reaching for the knife in his pocket.

Sir Richard gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Still bent on revenge, are we?" He stood up and stepped over Lord Grantham's head. He regarded the knife with a wary eye, but he did not back away.

"I should have taken my chance before you got me," Matthew said. "Several times I could have killed you."

"You would not have been able to keep me down," Sir Richard replied. "You didn't have the desire to kill before. If I recall you were too busy weeping over Lavinia's dead body."

Mary could almost feel Matthew's fury coming off of him. It was the same anger that had possessed him when he cut Kemal's throat. "Don't you dare say her name," he said quietly.

"I'll do as I please," Sir Richard scoffed.

"You cursed her!" Matthew spat. "You poisoned her mind! You made me think she no longer loved me!"

"It was what I had to do to gain my prize," Sir Richard shrugged.

"She was no prize!" Matthew snapped.

Sir Richard was suddenly eyeing Mary, who had been watching them with a puzzled look.

"You don't know this story, do you Lady Mary?" he said. "Well, I'm not surprised. It's a long story."

Mary looked at Matthew uncertainly. Even now he was remembering that past, and it visibly pained him. Sir Richard smirked.

"Go on, Matthew," he continued. "Tell her."

Matthew stood unmoving for a few seconds. It seemed to Mary ages before he lowered the knife and turned to her.

"Lavinia was my fiancée. We lived in London at the Tudor court, and we loved each other very much. She met _him_," he pointed to Sir Richard, sneering with disgust, "when I was away. Eventually, I began to see she was slipping away. She told me one day that she was no longer in love, yet I knew that what she said could not be true. I saw her with him so often I was sure he was seducing her."

Matthew stopped and rubbed his head, as if the memories were causing him a physical pain.

"She began to slip farther and farther away. I searched for a way to help her, but it was sorcery that as a human I could not hope to destroy. She was too far gone, with her mind befouled.

"I caught them together one night. Alone, in her house. He was strengthening the enchantment on her. Her eyes had gone empty, and I imagined her soul darkening as well. I could have killed him, but all I could think of was saving Lavinia. I tried to free her, make her see me again, but the grasp on her was too great. So I did the only I thought I could do."

He touched the blade tenderly, the metal singing. "I stabbed her in the heart," he said sadly. Mary touched her hand to her mouth, her eyes welling up with tears.

"I couldn't believe what I had done. I ran from her house before he could kill me, back to my own. For four nights I waited for the soldiers to come and arrest me, but he came alone and ... cursed me."

"A fate you deserved," Sir Richard said. "To live with your guilt forever."

"I'd rather live as a monster than watch her be with someone who manipulated her," Matthew said to him.

Almost lazily, Sir Richard flicked his wrist, and Matthew was forcefully thrown to the ground. The knife spun in the air and the sharp point pierced the floor.

"But now, thanks to you her soul can't be saved. I tried, but I was not the one who destroyed her," Sir Richard said bitterly. Then he looked at Mary, and she understood what he wanted.

"Nonetheless, I'll still have my prize," Sir Richard said. "I've waited a thousand years to be with someone." He stepped towards Mary, a salacious glint in his eye.

"No!" she cried. Yet as she spoke she felt an invisible force pull her towards Sir Richard. Matthew stood up quickly.

"You bastard!" His fist rammed into Sir Richard's jaw. Mary let out a shout as the two men began to wrestle violently, knocking over table and a vase in their scuffle. She stepped back, her ankle touching the knife.

Matthew ended up on top of Sir Richard, gripping his throat tightly. Sir Richard desperately scratched at the sharp fingers clasped around him, but the hold was too strong. Matthew bared his fangs and dug his nails deeper in, ready to tear the flesh off of Sir Richard's neck.

Mary threw herself at him and was trying to pull him off of Sir Richard. "Don't! Please, no!" she cried over and over. Matthew pushed her off of him.

"Matthew, no!" she pleaded. "You don't have to kill him."

"If you want to stay safe, then I have to," Matthew told her. He bent down and took Sir Richard's neck in his mouth. He ripped upwards, and a chunk of flesh came away. He spit the flesh into the fireplace.

"I'm doing this for your sake," he said. "I'll be damned if I let anyone threaten you again, even when you do get stronger."

He saw Mary stoop and pick of the knife. "No, let me."

Matthew looked at her, astonished.

"You killed Pamuk for me. So let me do this, for you and for Lavinia."

Matthew looked at her and then Sir Richard. Right now he could do what he had dreamed of doing since the night he was turned. Right now, he could avenge Lavinia's misfortune and his own. But he knew Mary would not stand down, that she would do it for him.

Reluctantly, he climbed off of Sir Richard, and Mary went to stand beside the injured creature, the blade poised over his mauled neck. Sir Richard tried to speak, but his words were nearly incomprehensible.

"You ... dare ... kill ...?"

Mary kneeled down and positioned the knife point a hair away from his throat. She did not hesitate nor shy away. Sir Richard did not like the unyielding expression on her face.

"I ... can ... make ... you ... hap-py," he choked out.

"After everything you've done, I doubt we'd make each other happy," Mary said.

Sir Richard's struggle to speak was a losing battle. "You ... can-not ... k-kill ..."

"I will," Mary said. "For all you have done to Matthew."

A groan came from nearby. Lord Grantham opened his eyes. "M-Mary?" Everybody looked over at him.

Lord Grantham's library seemed blurry to him, but he could make out Matthew standing by Mary, who was kneeling on top of Sir Richard. Sir Richard's neck seemed a bit distorted. Mary was holding what Robert made out to be a very sharp dagger. To his eyes there was little color except for tiny rubies here and there, right where everyone's eyes should be.

"Wha' is sis?" he slurred. His whole body seemed to shake as he tried to right himself.

"Lord Grantham," Matthew said. "Stay down." He knelt and pressed a finger to the nape of Robert's neck. Robert shuddered and his eyes closed quickly. Matthew looked behind him at Mary and nodded.

Mary plunged the knife into Sir Richard. His shrieks became angry words that no one could understand. Mary continued to cut at his neck, her own anger fueling her desire to kill. She was not afraid, and each time she thrust the blade into his neck her strength grew, the next blow even more overwhelming than the last. Sir Richard jerked violently and howled as Mary unmercifully dissevered his head. Robert lay still on the floor, but somewhere in his mind he could hear the final cries of Sir Richard's wrath.

The moment it was done, both Robert and Cora began to stir. Both of them saw, albeit indistinctly, Sir Richard's severed head, the dagger in Mary's hand, and Mary and Matthew standing with their fangs in their mouths.

Sir Richard's mangled body began to crumble to white dust. As Cora and Robert watched it diminish to ash, they looked at Mary and Matthew with questions spinning around in their heads.

Matthew's eyes met Mary's. "I suppose there's only one thing left to do," he said to himself. He turned back to Lord and Lady Grantham.


	11. Beyond Death

Given that Lord and Lady Grantham had just been attacked by a vampire, seen a mutilated body crumble to dust, and learned that their eldest daughter and the heir to the estate were also vampires, Matthew thought the both of them were taking it rather well.

As Mary and Matthew explained with great difficulty the entire situation, Robert and Cora sat petrified, their eyes widening with every word spoken. Cora's jaw's dropped when Matthew told them about Kemal and Evelyn Napier. When both of them fell silent, not even Robert knew what to say. He didn't want to believe that either of them were undead, but the proof was standing in front of him, and there was no mistaking what he had seen. The blurry vision of Sir Richard leaning towards him, a dull pain, then seeing Mary above Carlisle holding a knife, and especially seeing a decapitation was were things that could not be part of a joke.

He stood up and said, to Matthew, "My dear fellow, we all have chapters that we'd rather keep unpublished. Though what you have said has shocked me, it has not changed how I think of either of you."

A sob shook Mary, and Robert stepped forward to embrace her warmly. Relief spread over Matthew quickly.

He went home feeling very tired, and very thirsty. He had killed two vampires in one day and also told Lord Grantham what he was, and he didn't believe he'd get out of it alive. Somehow it seemed unreal that he was still in one piece; Kemal and Sir Richard could easily have taken off his head with their bare hands. It wouldn't have mattered to him if he had died, as long as Mary was safe. He had been so frightened of Kemal controlling Mary, using her to his will. It had been both luck and strength that that had never happened.

Matthew went to the window and watched the moon suspended high in the night sky. He ignored his thirst and mused on his freedom. The invisible chains that had bound him to Sir Richard had been broken. He felt stronger; since the one who had turned him was now dead, his power had grown in a matter of minutes. No doubt the same thing happened to Mary, but she'd have less of a restraint on her powers since she was still young. Matthew decided to let her have a few days to recover before teaching her how not to break everything she gripped.

He went back to the bed and reached beneath it, pulling the coffin out from under. Raising the ebony lid, he climbed inside and closed himself off from any light of the outside world.

It was hard for Matthew to think about their previous bitterness towards each other when now even the thought of Mary put a smile on his face.

* * *

By morning Sibyl was not shaking so badly, though she needed a few days to regain full health. Tom had found accommodations at the Grantham Arms, and he said he would not leave until Sibyl was normal again. Edith was also very tired, but she hadn't lost as much blood as Sibyl, since Kemal had taken pleasure just from terrorizing her.

When Robert read in the Times the disappearances of Kemal Pamuk and Sir Richard Carlisle, he couldn't help but smile. Everything that had happened that day - Sibyl and Mary vanishing from their bedrooms, getting attacked by Sir Richard, seeing him beheaded on the library floor, and learning both Mary and Matthew were vampires - it all seemed something out of a novel. He was sure that he'd never look at either of them the same way again, but he did not doubt that what they said was true; they would not hurt anyone in this family.

Although her parents were hardly upset at her vampirism, Mary kept away from them. She still felt uneasy around humans, and the urge to take their sweet-smelling blood hadn't lessened. She could tell she needed blood, but she wanted to wait a little before she told Mama and Papa she was going to feed off of Anna. They needed to pay her more if she was going to act as a nightcap to Mary.

She'd learnt from Matthew how to keep her victims asleep as she fed, and so she no longer heard Anna's cries of pain beneath her. She still took from Anna frequently, but now Mary was taking her hunt to the village. She felt the same way Matthew did when he fed: she loved the blood that flowed from her victim's neck, but she could not help but wonder what they were experiencing as Mary satisfied her craving.

On occasion she saw Matthew in a village house, feeding from some unconscious human. She avoided being seen by him. It wasn't the same Matthew who was her father's heir and who came to dine with them every other night. Mary had seen something savage in his eyes when he was attacking Kemal and Sir Richard. He truly looked like a monster with his red irises and needle-sharp fangs and claws, and he almost acted like one as well. Mary wondered if in time she'd become just like that.

Yet, Mary admitted to herself, she decided she loved him no matter if his eyes were blue or red. Her attraction to him was unlike what she had felt with Kemal. With Pamuk it had been lust; all those times alone with Matthew had intensified her feelings towards him. Mary couldn't believe herself. Perhaps she had loved him longer than she knew.

* * *

Mary caught Matthew in the drawing room while her father was kept busy with his other dinner guests.

"I guess you've heard that Tom Branson is staying at Downton," she began. Matthew nodded. "As the new chauffeur. How did Sibyl take that news?"

"Actually, I think she's secretly pleased," Mary smiled slightly. "She might have a crush him."

Matthew had to laugh at this, and Mary joined in.

She wanted to ask him more about Lavinia, how much he had loved her, what she was like. She wanted to know about his life hundreds of years ago, surviving the deadliest parts of European history. But a long time ago one of her governesses had told her it was rude to ask intrusive questions, and she choose to wait until he told her himself.

"You can just ask," Matthew said.

Mary looked at him surprised, then laughed at herself, blushing a little. "I forgot you could do that."

His ice-blue eyes seemed to stare right into her, though not in a threatening way. "You want to know about Lavinia?"

Mary chewed on her lip, and she nodded. "What was she like?"

Matthew looked at something across the room. "She was innocent and beautiful. I loved her with all my heart. When she was with me she never caused a moment's sorrow."

"And do you still love her?" Mary asked him.

Matthew had grown solemn, and Mary regretted asking him at all.

He said, "I have not thought of her for a long time. Before I was turned I was mad with guilt. After Carlisle cursed me I put it all behind me, since she had been part of my life as a human, and I had to let that go. In fact, until the night I killed him, I hadn't thought of her name for a while."

"Do you still love her?" Mary asked again.

He did not say anything this time, but Mary heard his words in her head, and she smiled. She returned his thoughts. When Matthew heard her words he had to remember not to look too excited with everyone else in the room.

"Come with me," he said quietly, taking her hand.

They both stepped outside, where snow was coming down and dusting the grass around Downton Abbey with a sparkling white. Neither Matthew nor Mary felt the cold of the snow or each other's skin as they kissed passionately, wrapping their arms around the other person's body in a close embrace. When they parted Matthew grabbed her around the waist and spun her around, with Mary laughing happily. For the first time in many years Matthew felt truly happy, with the woman he loved standing next to him.

It did not matter that they were bloodthirsty vampires, living as creatures of the night. It did not matter that they'd retain youth as they watched the rest of the Crawleys age and die. Eternity in the darkness no longer haunted them, now that they had someone to share it with.

* * *

_AN: I truly hope you enjoyed reading this! Thank you for the reviews and for following and favoriting this fic. It's not as long as other stories, I know, but I wrote this as something you want to read for a few minutes during the night._

_PS: I am thinking about a sequel where we see more Sibyl/Branson vampire stuff, so keep an eye out!_

_Edit: sequel currently in production_


	12. A Horror to Come

_AN: I'm working out the plot for a sequel to this, so this is a sneak peek to what will come later! Tell me what you think!_

* * *

Here, in this tiny hole, in this cramped prison, she slept. She lay unmoving, held immobile by heavy chains that wrapped around her body. A simple wood box encased her, and the earth around the box served as the guardsman, allowing no one to rescue her. Darkness was her only companion.

Her sleep lasted years.

But the nightmare lasted centuries.

It was such a long time ago that he came with his knife and pushed it into her chest, staining her green dress with a black mark. She even remembered dying, seeing her world fade in a heartbeat. Despite being four hundred years old, her memories were still vivid. She remained, brought to life by desperation and necromancy.

Her soul was damned.

She remembered long ago that first moment of thirst, when she went mad and ravaged that child, tore her apart like a wild beast. She remembered screaming in rage as she was forced into the makeshift coffin and the chains wound themselves around her. She screamed for a long time after she had been left in the dark. Her hunger had not been satisfied.

It scared her when the chains that bound her fell away and crumbled to stone bits around her. For a long time she simply lay in her wooden prison, feeling the strangeness of freedom. She had grown used to lying still, growing mad with every year.

And suddenly she had strength, thought she had had no food since she had been locked away. She clawed at the wood above her, her limbs stiff with age and disuse. The wood succumbed to her razor sharp nails and broke apart as splinters. The earth that covered her prison began to fall into the hole, and she worked faster, making a cavity above her head, pushing the dirt into her prison until she no longer needed to lay down. She crouched and continued clawing away without hesitation, scratching away the earth faster than a dog. She could now stand, and she knew she was almost finished.

Her spidery hand broke through the grass to meet the open world. She had not breathed in night air for a long, long time, and she breathed it in, smelling trees and animals, things she had forgotten about. Her hands were tickled by the wet grass. A breeze whipped her red hair around her face. The bright moon blinded her eyes, which had grown accustomed to the darkness of her prison. The light shone on her green dress, stained with blood around her breast.

Far in the distance, between the trees, she could see the soft yellow light glowing through the windows of a large castle. Though far away, she was conscious of the many humans in that large house. Humans completely oblivious to the woman buried beneath their land.

She smiled at her good fortune, shadows turning her face savage, moonlight glinting off her overly long teeth. The hunt was beginning.

* * *

_AN: Guess who?_


End file.
